I hear the shuffling,
The slithering train,
Banter inaudible,
Pages turning,
as if to whisper
To make it known,
to me,
to all..
That oblivion isn’t the cure.
Oft have I tried to understand
That noise is the key,
To unlock some peace.
(Yet the fastener doesn’t open
The lock is of ingenious make,
It refuses to divulge,
The secrets it withholds…)
If noise can unlock
A little peace…
Wonder what too much
Silence could do.
-@ Shalini
Look at you
Had you any inkling, of how original you were
How your curvy tresses, unkempt, were the cascades of Eden
And how you uttered words of supposed cacophony that launched ships
Did you know
That it did not matter how they looked at you
But it does matter how you see yourself
Look at you, rising from the wreckage, embracing storms…
Look at your threshold
At the Aurora you became, and the Sun in his chariot, seeking your aproval…
to ascend.
Just –
Look at you…
It is March,
The month of her Spring,
When a soothing cold breeze…
Whiffs away the demons within.
It is March,
The season of her smile,
When every flower beckons at her with…
A promise divine.
It is March,
The return of her being,
When gushing daisies…..
Rustle and bespeak perforce,
Words of true love.
It is March,
The echo of her soul,
When valleys smile…
Enamoured by her will,
And demure persistence.
— Shalini.
She did not know what lay beyond the horizon, yet the journey went on…
She had no idea of the way winds would rummage the leaves, yet she kept meandering through…
She did not wonder how deep the trenches were, yet the castle seemed close somehow…
She did not know who controlled the skies…
Till
The lake mirrored her…
That was when she knew,
And has known it since.
By heart.
And yet, it is morning again,
The stars had beckoned….
Lovingly,
Had carressed all the pain…….
Invigorated love,
Desires afresh…..
Every star had smiled
Last night, in the dark mesh……
And yet, it is morning again
Where the night was autumnal,
When biting winds swept within;
And every heart was in denial.
Upon every dark night
The torch bearer is restless;
Brighter he has to shine,
With grace and with finesse……
And yet, it is morning again…..
The dark night perchance happened;
Having slipped into oblivion,
When hopes had been dampened……
So we move on from here,
Knowing this for certain;
Some treasures are too dear.
“I can’t see you”, she shouts out to him.
“Silly, turn to your right and follow me in the cove. And quiet….”, he places his finger on his lips and beckons her to follow.
Suddenly, as if lightning has struck, she stops in her tracks. The endless track among the pines this morning has a dreamy effect on her. She looks at his eager form, his agile moves and the silence around her. She has been here earlier too. But this morning has something more to it. How is she to understand where this omen seeps into her?
She has sensed her soul flowing out from her being, traversing through the rough trail, right there, ahead of her. Her feet seem jammed into the wet earth. She tries to close her eyes and come out of this stupor. Now she is among the pines, one with the mist, dancing away through the uneven tracks.
“Hey”, he calls out again, this time whispering. There, she can see him now, bending over a nest housed by two lovely birds. The mist is rising, she can see his face clearly now; the contours of his face clearly refined and the spark in his eyes.
Her soul has flown back into her bosom. The pines are distinctly visible. All is right with the world. Here they are, picturing birds in a tender cove, she smiles with him, eager to move on.
“सुबह की किरणों को रोकें, जो सलाखें है कहाँ
जो खयालों पे पहरे डाले वो आँखें है कहाँ
पर खुलने की देरी है परिंदे उड़ के चूमेंगे
आसमां आसमां आसमां…”
Been listening to this number on loop and it does not cease to evoke the wonder called hope amidst all despair.
Let me first translate the above lines for you:
” Which mesh can ever stop the sun’s rays
Where are the eyes that can curtain thoughts
It’s just a matter of time when birds are free and they’ll kiss the sky…”
(Can’t say that I’ve done justice to the translation.) Hear it for yourself..
https://youtu.be/ugm2SOScEqA
(Song from the movie “Udaan”)
Hope is certainly a thing with feathers. In the midst of all the fear of the unknown, making frantic calls to friends and relatives, ensuring their physical and mental well being, HOPE…is still alive.
As Indians, we are a resilient race, true… But this time, the truth is grimmer than ever. Blaming lack of preparedness, infrastructure, foresight…none of it is bringing back the lost lives. We seek solace in each other’s company, praying…feeling the shower of gratitude drench our souls…,hoping, all will be fine.
When dawns fall short
And the flowers blossom timidly
To ensure if it is the Sun’s warmth
Or an ensnaring blaze that beckons…
When the birdlet wonders
If the twigs belong to her nest
Or if it is the hunter’s snare
That puts her faith to test…
When eyes see the rain
Falling free on the threshold
Yet shut their periphery, to wonder
If the wetness was begotten by tears manifold…
It is then that hands rise to the skies
Seeking benevolence from the mightiest…
It is then that hope refuses to die
Seeking permanent hope, a forever respite.
(P.S. – This post is not meant to generate any biased response, just an impromptu reaction to this stimulus called despair. Hoping all this dissolves into better times…somehow)
Aspired and denigrated
Whilst we stand here
Not knowing where to go…
Let us take a step back
Discover what was there
Already hidden in the flow…
And while the storms rage
Till the world settles in a hum
Why not play in the backyard
Sheltered from all the chaos…
Come, let us be
As kids when we were
Not escaping the reality…
But by being what we were
Told the adults
That
There is joy in humanity
That
There is fun in uninamity
That
All fear is lost in familiarity…
That
There is more…
To Equality.
sustainthruwords 