November 25, 2011

Clock



A soft terrain of muddy grass
in dying hue of the evening
Its wet texture, softening
enters the ground deeper
reaching the breath too
as if dew to dull limbs

It stretches forth
falls back at times
moves forth again
A hopeful pendulum but mortal clock
of these countable years
shading the memories darker

The lullaby the mother sang
in the days gone by
until the winter mornings
her shivering self
comforting the daughter in warm quilt
Songs of the night so warm

Mother lays mercilessly
on this muddy grass
though a soft terrain
shivering again till the winter morning
lays cold to death
the daughter, who cannot be seen

A harsh domain of the mad world
In oblivion, in illusion
Soft appearing, but stubborn
enters no heart
reaching no breath
As if a scented dead limb..



October 18, 2011

A wish..

The table was set clean in the garden and the tea was being poured in the saucer from an off-white sparkling tea-pot, it was smoking and smelling of the herbs. The tea-pot, which Shivam had got for her; from Calcutta some four years back and it was as stainless and special as ever. They both had a routine of having the morning tea together while they watch the beautiful backyard of their house. This morning was a little different, besides her and Shivam, Anuj’s share of tea also was being made today, she puts one and a half spoonful of sugar in his cup and he continuously kept looking at the glowing  skin of her hands wearing red bangles on her wrists but quivering fingers making tea, putting milk at one moment and stirring the sugar as it gradually sweetened the warm drink. She threw a quick glance at him and placed the saucer there in front of him. She goes into the kitchen on account of preparing breakfast for the three of them. Anuj had a tiring journey from Delhi last night. The breakfast table was bigger than the one in their backyard, the table cloth was flawlessly drawn today and Shivam was very particular about the same, after all Anuj and he could be together today after a wide gap of seven years. The memorable year of 1995, their farewell day at college in Delhi, they had last met; all of them Shivam, Arpita and Anuj. Since then, they had no news of Anuj besides, that he moved to States at his uncle’s to continue his further studies. The present was the day they all had to talk about it. What happened and how it happened, and finally why it happened. This anxiety was dominantly present in Arpita’s heart, a woman’s heart. A woman’s heart which once had loved and was mistaken for the same.

While the mixie in the kitchen is roaring to its pitch, and Arpita works endlessly, it is almost 1:30 noon, Anuj and Shivam unable to find time for anything else than talking and revisiting the good old college days. Little Anaya, two, is sleeping in her cradle peacefully, probably dreaming, dreaming a girl’s dream, weaving some naïve understanding of her own little world, the world of pure thoughts and babbling words, though broken yet contained a flow of her sentiments, who knows none beyond mummy’s care and  daddy’s love.

Her wish still lingers on, even to this day to fetch a moment out of her own life so that she may clarify the necessary matter with Anuj. The chapter which unfortunately, could not be completed in her case. Anuj has perhaps acquired the famous American air in his sense, probably he is ignoring her; she felt. She tried to be judgemental of his behaviour almost each day even in these long seven years, but it was unanswered. She had been questioning tirelessly but who knew the pain she underwent through each passing day. Shivam was a loving husband, a caring one; but a husband. It was going complex, she didn’t want to miss this chance that life had finally given her, to talk to Anuj before he again flies off to America, a strange land of dreamers.

“Let’s have coffee together, it would be a great idea before I take a short leave of you to settle some account of business and be back before dinner Anuj” informed Shivam. The idea brought discomfort at Anuj’s disposition. Arpita listened; and like a dedicated wife went in the kitchen to brew coffee for them, followed by the time when Anuj and Arpita are alone, at one place, at one time. “ I do not want to be any inconvenience to you by staying in front of your eyes, I am sorry for..” Anuj could not take it further. Arpita held tray in her hands and restlessly cleared the table, her body was speaking for her suppressed emotion, a lingering wish and an innocent confession. She was puzzled. How to begin a talk, with a man who is not a friend to her since long, not even a little more than a friend.

An hour had been already spent, a futile span which couldn’t decide anything for Arpita. It was childish of her to break in front if him suddenly. She was broken to the core of her senses. Her red bangles still retained the music when she placed both her hands on her face and wept. It was painful to Anuj, but as always he was out of speech. He,a man, an intelligent one believed not in prophesying his acts as ever before. He moved and held her in his. “I am sorry that is all I can say to you Arpita” and she melted in his mortal embrace, but it was yet bitter to hear that sorry, which never moved beyond its very denotation. She was quiet and still was being caressed by him, the same old warmth, as if it had been perfectly matured between these two bodies only, without knowing any gap of unfortunate seven years. “You could have told me about States Anuj, and I had been really foolish to create a world for us, in my imagination” she choked. They stood still, speechless. It was this breakdown which was bringing inside her heart a gradual sensation of peace, more than anything else, more than his embrace which was now diminishing in its effect over her. The chapter of Anuj was completed now, an urge of sharing was fulfilled inside that woman’s heart.

The next morning was fragrant with purer thoughts. It was more satisfying a dawn in her life, with Shivam and Anaya, a completed vision, a desired life as never before. She looked at sleeping Anaya’s face, and gives her daughter a silent blessing; so that again a woman’s heart never suppresses in itself, a lingering wish.



August 22, 2011

Forgotten..


Dawn has forgotten
forgotten its dew and mist
Leaves remain dry on that chest
telling us a new story

Fore is ended
Past is err
The life has suspended
suspended its shift

Rising sun has forgotten
forgotten its charm
Redness of the rose
it’s gone in the blues

The humane has fallen
fallen apart
Midst the ocean
the way is lost

The dead is speaking
but living muteness
Dreads of the gone
fears of existence

Dawn has forgotten
forgotten its dew and mist
Leaves remain dry on that chest
telling us a new story…

July 2, 2011

Falling Petals...

The falling petals of the rose
The tinge of pink that glows
The fragrant part
It touches the heart


I walk about its bush
In my memories you stay
Your thought arrives without a push
Never knew I'll walk this way

The roses you gave
I saved them all
Then you were naive
I knew it all


Those roses now bring
you to me
You gripping my hand
Walking on the rose land


Not just a flower, not just beautiful
It was a magic you had done
Not just something superficial
It was comparative to none




The falling petals of the rose
The tinge of pink that glows
The fragrant part
It touches the heart..



June 20, 2011

The Life, lived Together

She had been crying all night. Last night too, had been no different. Another sleepless night. The puffiness under her eyes had been observed by almost all colleagues in the office today, but she changed the conversation each time by adding “Oh, just the workload”. This night was sole, this night was a particular night. Yet, the night was really dark, she wished it had not been so. This night for Maya was painful. The clock struck two, the tears also rushed through her eyes as fast as the hands of the clock moved, and just the life was still. The breeze outside lacked its fundamental nature, the murmur of the wind -swept leaves on the bush was blank, the knock on the window by the flowing air didn’t bring good news anymore, as it did three years back. Her fists tightened naturally, she was crying, lying on her bed pushing her hard in the padding. The wind chime irritated her, she paid no regard to its tinkle any further, as she wanted to block all amusing sounds around her...for to surrender herself to her past..the past in which she is alive, the past in which she had been happy, the past which talks to her by making most pleasant sounds, the past which has Arun.

 She smiled abruptly, she is reminded of the day they had first met. They had met because they were destined to, as they were destined to part. Arun had parked his car right in front of the coffee shop, he knew from their friendship days in school, she loves the grande coffee cuppa at Costa. The 19 February, their first date. Her pressed lips and she avoided looking right into his eyes; she had to be shy, following the basic code of conduct, at the first date of her life. She wore a pink color salwar kameez, with white chiffon dupatta that complimented her milky white complexion very well, while Arun notices the silver colored, big and round earrings that kissed her face, each time she talked and moved. She notices that he had turned fair, more handsome and keeps neat and clean, so unlike his adolescence years in school. He had worn green and white striped shirt with denims, and stood reasonably tall, she was impressed. It was the first time they were to  converse as grown ups! It was the first time, they were looking at the same life, together. “ I never knew, you would turn so beautiful like this” says Arun teasingly, “and you seem to talk more intelligent now”. Maya, had only one answer to it, a giggle. They talked as never before, two hours had been spent sharing their views, ideas and lifestyles. The date had been close to perfect, a practical one. Maya could see a bright future; then.

The tear dropped on the pillow, she came back to the present dark night. Again her room filled up with oddity, the things seemed to torment her, and it was agonizing. The bliss could be found only in the midst of the memories, the memories of Arun. She wanted to run to mama, to put her head in her lap, and craved to go to sleep which was inaccessible tonight. Yet, she wished to see his face, she longed for his arms to embrace her. Maya had been helpless, she could not see any end to this night. She had to complete a heap of assignments the next day in the office, the job would require her mind and physical exercise both, but how can she be equipped enough to take such a burden, if she doesn’t take ample sleep a night before. This had bothered her, but she consciously left herself to pain. The link between Maya and this hurting had become almost natural, as the link between her and Arun had been; three years back. She moves with the flow and misses him.

They met often, while she came back from her college, as he did too. They met at Costa or went for not-so-long drives, because she had been responsible enough to not be late for home. Maya is reminded of one such time, when she and Arun planned a day out for a long drive. The weather had been somewhat cloudy when they left, later it turned into a dark blue colored sky as if painted with sparkling blue shade. The windows were freed down, the wind was moving in, across the car glasses. Arun had played her favorite collection of some old hits plus ghazals. This was Life! She says “Arun, this is it, this is what I had always desired.” Arun and Maya are cheerful today, what better they could have asked for. It starts raining, the weather is incredible and is bringing them closer. Maya wraps her arm around his, and slants sideways on his shoulder, she doesn’t want to go back home and have the routine dinner of dal and chapatti that mama would make. So, they plan to stop by the highway to have their share of hot tea. Its like a dream for her, she realizes she is on the top of the world! Arun orders tea and sandwiches, which Maya finds quite satisfying an evening meal shared with Arun. It is 4:30 pm, they have to return now, and be home by 6:00.Arun is a guy of few words, he smiles more and replies less, and this is what Maya finds ‘cute’ in him. “He is the one”, her heart says to her every time he looks at her. The roads had been jammed past highway because of such heavy rain, she is tensed and restless, that she may be questioned on being late. There is noise, loud horns, brawls among drivers and their car, moving only for the sake of it! This was unwanted, she goes depressed!

But not worse than the way she is miserable presently, there is no one around, at least in such a crazy atmosphere, Arun was there, who gave her strength in such spiteful situations. Now, no one is there, mama and papa had been sleeping without having any idea of what she is going through, perhaps so is Arun . The tears had stopped rolling down for a while, she tries to get up, and decides to meditate and feel strong. Failing to do so, she approaches the cupboard, possibly the only comfort at this moment was to have a look at that beautiful dress Arun had gifted her on her birthday a few years back, and she keeps the dress tightly close to herself and is reminded of that day….

“And, here comes the princess!”, exclaims Arun, the dress really suited her, she was glowing more fair in that blue churidaar and light-green colored kameez, as she comes out of the trial room, to him her face had never looked so glowing, her unmade  hair as charming, her body as  voluptuous  and her style more vivacious! She was looking purely adorable in this dress. They leave Shopper’s and head off to Priya’s to catch up a movie, it was a part of the big treat today, after having the lunch at the Chinese restaurant close by. It was no less than a perfect time spent together. They walked hand-in-hand through the complex, and shopped unnecessarily, as Maya liked collecting superfluous stuff, and Arun found it ‘cute’. Similarly, they accepted one another’s plus(s) and minus(s).So they complimented each other, they had many equivalent habits, they never had unnecessary arguments other than debating on current issues or the news of the day! Yes, they were not one of those living-for-love kinds of material, they both were living-for-life, living ‘together’. What had happened to this life? Why Maya’s and Arun’s love is a history? Maya had been crushed by this thought, that their life which they lived together, was a history.

Soon after Maya was dropped safely by Arun at her place after the not-so-long drive date. Arun was delighted and keyed up, that it was a wonderful day. He was feeling contented. It was something he had not felt before in his life. Maya was the one, the one girl who could bring that charisma to his life. He decided that time, to rush home as soon as possible and unveil their association to family. He drove fast, and thought fast. He decided he would tell mummy first. The rain didn’t stop, and Arun didn’t slow down. Life seemed easy, so easy. He was absent minded, he was smiling. Maya laments tonight, their love would have been culminated, if that evening would not have been awful. If he had been conscious, he would not have collapsed on the road with that tree, which had crushed him to death. So, he would have been there with her, with his people, with himself. This night had been as appalling as that night. This night, was the unfortunate one, which made her feel incomplete, without Arun. The loss can never be compensated. The rains only brought tears along , the traffic noise was a bad omen, and the whispering air brought the scorching pain. Maya was changed. This Maya, didn’t know what life is. How to live this life, if it can be called so.  This Maya, is waiting for Arun to come, yet to come.

Maya stood helplessly with her dress in her hands. She kissed the dress, and could smell the touch of his hands on it, when he had circled his arms around her waist. She had kept Arun alive, in her reminiscences, through the days and nights. She could see Arun walking along with her, with each step she takes. Arun pats her for the success she reaps and is a companion through the obstacles. Arun is alive in her soul, and now also they ‘live together’, they share the same breath. It is 4:30 am, tomorrow is office. “I have a lot to do, Arun would be unhappy, if I disrespect my work” she reassures herself. Maya had to live life somehow, doing things how he would have liked. She goes to her bed, and sleeps with some droplets of tears on her eye-lashes. She leaves home, at 8:30 and moves out of the car, thinking the day is going to be good, the way Arun would have liked it. She goes on.

Echoing Earth


I watch the lonely sky
I knock at its door
I heard a sound of cry
Why it comes no more?


That was the echoing earth
I gather as I walk,
Cries from a diseased bed
Yes, just the cries sans talk

I grow pensive and still
Men shrug and go
My nerves get a shrill
Some sail, many flow

My heart skips a beat
Recalling censored dreams
A vision of castle sweet,
Now it all screams

Faces so pale
Voices so hoarse
Like a monster’s tale,
As scattered bleeding corpse

I watch the lonely sky
The door remains close
I heard a sound of cry
Even it comes no more.

Sooner or Later


Sooner or later
does it matter?

The crescendo of passion lying under the pain
the unmatchable degree of loss and gain

Time has taken me beyond its precincts
the lavish life and luxurious imprints

It could be waiting for my patience to cease
but life thou is mistaken as I lie at ease

None can shake the comfort I reside in
The tempest shall come and check in

Serenity is intact, and pious I lay
my breath may lose but I shall stay

Sooner or later
it doesn't matter...

The written note

 

                            

                               The written note

                                                                                                   

She draws the curtain away, the sun feeds the room with its warmth. He lays undisturbed in his bed, still dreaming of heaven. She approaches the newspaper, walking through the breadth of the room. She finds a written note by the side of the ash-tray; unable to hide the tears in her eyes, she swiftly turns towards the kitchen...the toast had been burnt, the tea over-brimmed the utensil. She pulls up the corner of her beige color dupatta, to clear away the inescapable saline droplets. She decides to calm down and leave for work to think about it once back in evening. The noise of the door when shut, made to a squeaky crash, audible to next two houses in their neighborhood, yet he stays asleep, dreaming ceaselessly.

The clock struck 5:00pm, he is out of the sheets. He puts the music on and surrenders himself to the armchair put next to his bed which he didn't wish to leave; ever. Sipping down his coffee, watching a beautiful 6 inches wide silver bordered photo-frame, perhaps he is reminded of the historical date of 5th December 1998, the fateful night that eventually had gifted him this photograph, where he stood happily close to Shree. His heart is filled with the feelings undefined, he dials the ten digits that made him reach her at the earliest, in a crackling voice, he manages to say, “I love you Shree”. Its 6:30 pm, as usual she is back home, without catching his eye, she moves towards the stained kitchen- slab, which she couldn't clean up in the morning. She makes two cups of tea, and is off to the now cold bedroom, that has the curtains placed, where they should be. He sits in front of her, utter silence fills the room. She gets up, her bangles making noise to break this stifling stillness, walking towards the dressing board, she finds a written note by the side of the ash-tray..she smiles to face him; and his eyes are glowing wet.

Five years have been spent without him, Shree lives alone in the house, she wakes up every morning and moves the curtain away, where the sun now brings the light only, she makes her breakfast without staining the kitchen. The door crashes no more. She sits in the armchair every evening, with the music turned on and wishes that the first written note shouldn't have said "Start living for yourself, I may leave you forever; very soon, promise to keep smiling always"