Aryan Singh's World

Data Science, Statistics, ML, Deep Learning


Paas nahi ho tum, toh bhi yahin kahin ho tum.

Sab keh gayi ye aankhein, toh bhi ik baat ankahi ho tum.

Zindagi hai ik registaan si banjar, toh bhi pehli baarish ki boondo mei shamil nami haseen ho tum.

Jahaan har raasta hai ek aur paheli ki tarah, vahan kuchh aasan silsilon ki ik dor sarsari ho tum.

Jahaan kuchh aur nahi maut ke sanaate ke siva, vahan zindagi se sarabor ik khushfahmi ho tum.

Jahan aakar jhuk jaana dastoor hai iss zamaane ka, uss dargah ki dehleez ka pak noor ho tum.

Jo chhipta hai jaakar saagar ki baahon mei, uss suraj ki lalima ka guroor ho tum.

Jahan jaade se thithurta hai voh nanha sa baalak, vahan ik daraar se aati hui dhoop ki garmi ho tum.

Mai hun jis makaam ka pyaasa zamaane bhar se, uss makaam ki nawazish mei maqbool ho tum.

Kya dekhna uss husn ka joh itraata hai har pal, meri rooh ke aaine mei jo kaid hai voh tasveer ho tum.

Mai khud ko dhoondho yan kho jaane dun teri yaadon mei, uss khone mei sab kuchh paa jaane ka sukoon ho tum.


Sochtan hun ki kaash voh bhi kabhi mere baare mei soche

Ittefaq se hi sahi, kabhi mera bhi khayaal voh apne khwabon mei khoje

Jo band hai khidkian kai roz se,

Voh karne ko aaj aankhon ki guftugu, kuchh lamho ke liye khole.


Kuch aisa tha mausam ka bebakpan, kuchh aisi zindadili teri muskan mei thi
Ki mai toh nikla tha bhar ke zehen mei kuch sawal
Ab toh jawabon ka silsila bhi tujhe janne ka bahana ho gaya.

Kyun kajal tera karta hai abhi bhi mujhse baatein
Kyun adaa teri se mera taroof baar baar ho jaata hai
Ki mai toh baitha tha alfaazon ke bagaan se kuch phool chunne
Teri soch mei ye agaaz bhi nazm likhne ka ik bahana ho gaya.


Aaj fir shaakh par kuchh naye ghonsle dikhee..

Lagta hai kuchh aur parindon ne uchaayion se samjhauta karna seekh liya..

Camaraderie Of Silence

In this poem I talk about the times of silence where I sit alone and think about life, goals and the problems that keep me awake at night.

Zero, Vaccum, tranquility, hush are the diamonds in the life’s rough,
Waging lonely battles against life’s frivolous trouphs.
In harrowing night where becons a tryst with the longing to wither the time,
The power of silence rallies the intellect to stifle this crime.

Alone I sit waiting for the train of thoughts,
Sometimes its musings somedays its an aweful lot.
The vine of challenges encircles to thicken the plot,
Then I draw the sword of logic to cut through these knots.

The time that makes the philosophers think, the time that changes the rulers to kings.
It’s that time of the day which solitude brings,
Where silence is the companion in the troubled brinks.

Things go quieter as the times go past,
Mind aches for a companion to share the feel of outcast.
The fire of melancholy burns the cauldron of heart,
Enraging the blood to add fuel for a quest miles apart.

Now I have made friends with the lonesome days,
Now i hold hands with the quiet nights.
For its the time of the day that gives wings to the thought’s flight,
My comate my crony, towards the ultimate light.

Rendezvous With The Past

This poem talks about the poet’s desire to do time travel to his past to advice his younger self towards a path of happiness.

There reeks a sense of deep longing,
A longing to meet the alter ego of my lost past.
To travel through the folds of the time dust,
To meet the boy squealing under the life’s thrust.

To stroke his head with a kind touch,
To soothe his predicaments with a sensible advice.
To ask him not to be scared of the life’s vice,
To ask him not to worry about that bully’s size.

To ask him to tread the Invictus paths,
To tell him that he is good enough for every task.
To tell him that he is a lovable soul,
To convince him to take that girl out for a stroll.

To tell him to turn those tears into fire,
To press him not to kill his own for other’s desires.
To ask him to take it easy on himself,
To tell him its okay to fail in some tests.

I want to kill all those negative thoughts,
I want to soothe his deep insecurities with wisdom of life’s sorts.
I want to tell him its fine chase his dreams,
I want to give the wings back to his stunted teens.

To propel Singh to set the stage on fire,
To inspire him to punch back when the straits are dire.
O lord give me a chance to make that journey at last,
To save the childhood of your troubled son, in this rendezvous with the debilitated past.

Hoarder Of Memories

I walk the paths of the dusty terrain,
I dance to the sounds of the falling rain.

I enjoy the first rays of the morning sun,
I adore the innocence of the children’s fun.

I love to laugh on a bad joke,
I enjoy the humour of a sarcastic poke.

I enjoy the journey to the places unknown,
I cherish the perspective of a stranger forlorn.

I love to see the dog wiggle its tail to care,
I love to help the friends going through times despair.

I love to get beguiled by the beauty of a women’s eyes,
I love to hug the people full of despise.

Because I know when the end is near,
I will reflect upon these good times with smiles and flair.

The money is a myth so is the fame,
I am the hoarder of memories that flash in the light of my extinguishing flame.

Mai yaadon ka sudagar hoon nikla hu yaadon se bharne apna pitara,

Kuch khushnuma si hain, kuchh ranjo ghum ki hain toh kya malal,

Aji agar ye zakhm lete hain kisi ka naam toh kuch naam marham vaale bhi toh hain.

Choir Of Dreams

There is a land of motley musings,
Beyond the horizon where clouds float.

It houses the adobe of fluttering dreams,
Where the mind goes for its nightly stroll.

While on its excursion through the dim and lit halls,
It discovers a canvas in the stream of thoughts.

Some faces flash on and off, most known yet some unknown,
Some look at me with a kind gaze, while others with a vicious smirk.

Sometimes there is a resolute knight, fighting the dismaying desolation of war,
Sometimes appears a crumbling prisoner consuming itself in the guilt’s core.

Sometimes I meet a scared child looking for the familiar touch of care,
And some nights it is an apparition, threatening to tear my soul with a spare.

Somedays the visual of a cheering crowd coddling over every move of mine,
Sometimes its a story of severe strife that behooves me to struggle against that plight.

Every night when I close my eyes in this world of mortal scenes,
The mind opens a cornucopia to the choir of my dreams.

Dream Of Heavens

Sometimes I close my eyes to explore the darkest realms of sleep

When the dreams go darker and the night becomes mellow, I see an angel knocking on the door

The angel so beautiful that her beauty transcends the universe, her smile a blessing of gods

A beauty so rare that her touch makes me valuable, her gaze makes me surrender

Her lips, her eyes, her little perfect ears, her body, her hair is what makes this life worth living

Because it can’t be real that someone so perfect touches my life everyday, sometimes i think its all but a dream of heavens.

Roar of the warrior within

Come fight a little in the cradle of this burning log,
Come fight a little to right what’s wrong.

Don’t supress the voice that vanquishes the swines,
Oh come hither with your wrath, run fear down their spines.

Tear down the protection of that seed coat,
Within the storms let the fleet float.

For you are the master of the universe beats,
You are the fire that the dragon breathes.

Let them see the flare of that supressed flame,
Let them know who is running the end game.

Fight to last breath come what may,
Let them know to whom the legends pray.