Friday, July 24, 2020
Success
The dream is still there. But to climb that summit once more, it needs more than hard work or time; for this heart can never forget the pain of losing the power of dream to an illogical frame of mind. Victory was mine; but the feeling of a victor never came for the heart had its reasons and illusions.
Now when the same summit that the traveller climbed though unacknowledged looks far and hard to reach, all I can do is just wait for time to reveal life's reasons in not being able to taste the fruits of victory; rather like a soldier who lost his precious life in the last battle of his life, I remain lost, with a cowardly heart that cries at its losses and an illogical mind that takes pride in missing opportunities.
Your words
I would read it with real interest,
With full understanding that you,
With a loving heart made them,
So I can turn to them for comfort,
When with an ailing heart or pain,
On any day, when I need support,
And smile upon reading your words!
Note- Written in response to Swapna's As I Spin a Tale
Thursday, July 23, 2020
Wednesday, July 22, 2020
Reading Agatha Christie
Tuesday, July 21, 2020
New Woman
Pic Courtesy: Icarus and the Sun by Serena-Moretti
Monday, July 20, 2020
Sunday, July 19, 2020
wuthering heights
A perfect life
If life was perfect, I would never have lost you to silence,
Or you thought over what an innocent smile really meant,
It would have been a celebration of our mutual silences
With a huge degree of understanding, not hide-and-seek.
If life was perfect, it would have smelt of fresh coffee,
Your perfume, glowed with your glaring new blue shirt,
Your movie-star good looks and impeccable manners,
Along with those caring ways, never with another.
If life was perfect, to laugh would have been easy,
To cry easier and to trust and confide the easiest,
It would have given freely, not full of tragedies,
Which were between the cup and the lip always.
If life was perfect, I’d be what I am in my dreams,
Putting words into perfect little sheets, bound to books,
Or teaching children to sing rhymes and poems,
Or loving my little voices that mingle with mine.
Still if life was perfect, I would sit at night on the seashore,
With you gazing surprised at how beautiful I’m in black,
Talking of sweet nothings to remember and treasure,
That would be a perfect moment, for years to come.
Garden of Eden
Let's hold hands and walk in the garden
Search around for the four-leafed clover,
Walk around till we find the true mystique
Of a clover much-searched for and found.
One leaf for faith, hope, love and good luck,
Good luck, the most needed of them all,
From morning till night, we could pluck
And learn from the leaves of a four-leaf,
When the magic of the purple riot falls off life,
In a sunless garden where the flowers are dead,
A four-leaf clover might bring in a warm smile
Memories of bright sunshine and summer rain;
An Eve in the Garden of Eden plucked a clover
To know if Adam is her one true faithful lover.
Saturday, July 18, 2020
Togetherness
Savourings days of togetherness and promises;
After the sleepless nights of sad separation,
You and I have made recompense with our lives.
When the others have chosen the easy crossroads,
We have been foolish in not seeing the obvious;
The lessons that our elders gave every single day
Much to our dismay and feeling of righteousness.
We have not been lucky at the crossroads again;
You and I parted ways more than once in life;
While time ravages youth and leaves us feeble,
Broken, old, lonely, sad and too tired to talk.
We have been fools who missed the obvious lessons,
But when we come together, it is like spring again.
Friday, July 17, 2020
heathcliff
Wuthering Heights
Thursday, July 16, 2020
Wednesday, July 15, 2020
yellow rose
From Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet
Saturday, June 27, 2020
A City Glimpse
In the morning light the city lies silent,
Slowly it awakes with the rising sun,
And life moves along its streets,
Children walking to school,
Joggers on the run to keep fit,
Vehicles roaring to arrive first.
I walk with you by my side,
Through the lanes and roads,
Turning once in a while to smile,
Laugh or reply to something you,
Just told me with the wonder,
Of a child shining in your eyes.
I love the city in the morning light,
Only when you walk with me.
Being
And desires like creepers murmur,
In the dark cloudy sky to trees,
Until you come with your silence
And rain bursts in my space,
Where you are is my dream,
That I would exchange my being,
For being the air around you.
Springtime
A song for you
Of all the songs that have been made,
For you, until they turn old and fade,
This one is short and may be the best,
In this world, I love you the most.
Let new songs come and years pass,
I cant find a word that rhymes with pass..;-)
(well, I can, what i mean is I don't want to)
Don't have much to say,only new words,
Come and take place of the old ones.
Scent of rain
The earth forgets the scorching summer,
At the first drop of pelting rain
And its scents are translated into perfumes
Waterlily
You and Me
You and I don't have anything common between us apart from our love for words. You love stringing words together; beautiful words that collide against my mind, when I encounter them somewhere in books. They show how you have been digging words, their meanings and their various tones to paint pictures.
While here I sit and sweat trying to express what is on my mind; for words fail when it comes to what I feel for you. So I try to explain mystery after mystery, glance after glance, suddenly remembered conversations that bring you clear before me.
You and I have been away from each other for too long. Sometimes, I find that the colour of your words have faded and died. It has nothing to do with me, I know, but the fact is that it no longer makes me laugh or cry unlike earlier and I long for those unwritten words of yours.
A sacred space
For a time, life meant complete relaxation. Getting up late, making black tea and later lunch, listening to favourite songs (which prompted a question from a curious neighbour who thought it was a guy who played music), checking mails, replying to them and sitting to read on my favourite chair.
That chair was like a haven. The view was restricted with a wall, sometimes with a cat on it, the road you can see at a distance, the neighbour's houses (where at night, the sound of the lady scraping the last bit of food from the vessel for her husband could be heard in my room even with the windows closed) and a guava tree.
On days when I cleaned my room, after the work is done, I would sit and stare, first at my ultra-clean room with white floor (God, I miss my room, with the neatly arranged furniture, whose position I change during every cleaning session, though I am no blood relative of Tuglaq) and after a while at the scene outside. Once or twice I have seen the neighbour plucking the ripe fruits from the guava tree. Anyway, the ripe smell of its soft tasty flesh reached me all those times.
Once, on an idle day, I saw that this guava tree has a strange resemblance to a human form (with a well-shaped posterior) though upside down, with intertwined arms like an ancient supplicant praying incessantly to the gods. I even made a rough sketch of this sight.
Now living with a husband who runs a chidiyakhana (he’s fond of pets and keeps two cages of budgies in the room) that drives me mad at times, I miss my room of single days- my neat sparkling room with a lot of space and with a good view.
Unhappy Endings
I was only ten when I learnt about unhappy endings.
Like when I knew my grandmother had cancer,
I kneeled in churches, for God answers a kid’s prayers, they said.
She died and I didn’t meet her to say one goodbye.
She looked like a horrible nightmare,
Not the one you saw last, not the one you loved,
A swollen, ugly remnant of what was once beloved, they said.
Once botched goodbye, an unresolved parting for a little girl,
There were no tears for her, only numbness that didn’t feel real,
From that chirpy girl who never gave her a proper burial,
Who died a little that day, with prayers unanswered,
Full of questions but never with answers or resolutions,
Now, I’ve grown older with bungled muted loves,
Improper goodbyes, giving up too easily, too easily.
Couple Goals
We have celebrated our days of togetherness as if each day was a special occasion, gone on adventures in the city, explored new nooks and co...