Tagore: A Commemoration

There is no Sun as bright as you
You are still radiant in my heart,
Of all I read and of all I know
You are THE MASTER of the art.

Vibrant are all your paintings
The words you wrote are still alive
The wealth you gave to the world
No one else could ever contrive.

Bless me now, I’m all yours
I feel so proud when I think of you,
The world of art will surely miss
Guru of literature, O Kabiguru!

It’s today, when you were born
O what an auspicious day!
I remember you, we all will do
Every poet, wherever be one may.
.-=~(@)~=-.
…Bless us all, Gurudev…
…May God keep your soul in Peace…

Also posted in my Blog: Thus Wrote Tan!

A Silent Goodbye

“Give me a cigarette.”

“But, you…”

Papiya extended her hand, looking away from Himu. She was still looking at the lake, enveloped in fog. It was a chilled winter morning. The Shivam Lake in Haridashpur is the most famous place for morning walk. People of all age groups come here during this time of the day. Children play in the nearby football ground. Many of the houses were still asleep, along with the marketplace here; but the lakeside was a happening place. A few winter birds which could not avoid the urge to come out of their cozy nests were sitting on the tree above the bench where Himu and Papiya were sitting. They kept the frozen environment alive.

“Here, take it.”

Himu handed her the lighter and a cigarette from his packet. She lit it. He lit one himself. The fog was too dense. They looked deep into the lake, but nothing was visible. The diving board was the only thing they could see, and a few bamboo poles coming out of the water. After that, it was all white. It seems that the lake was taking a nap, wrapped in a white cloak. They tried to see through, but nothing else was visible.

These were the last few days for the couple in Haridashpur. Papiya got transferred to Haridashpur Post Office a couple of years ago and the couple moved in. The township attracted them, the very moment they set foot here. The people were lovely; the environment was so apt for the newly married couple that their whole stay here was like an extended honeymoon. Papiya used to be busy the whole day in her office, while Himu remained busy with his daily chores and writing. It was a perfect place for him to take out the creative genius he had in him. They used to enjoy the evening together, roaming around in Haridashpur – the temple, the river, the mountains and of course the Shivam Lake. They used to walk into the remote places by the mountains or near the river and sit there for hours till the sun would set. They used to enjoy the silence of this place. The rumbling of the river water; the chirping of the unknown species of birds; the sight of the rainbow after an evening drizzle – would set peace in their hearts. In spite of all these, they used to find and enjoy an indescribable silence of this place. Apart from a few honks of a passing train, there was nothing to disturb them. They used to immerse themselves into the quiet of Haridashpur. They would sit on the soft green grass near the river, dipped in ecstasy of their love for each other and the harmony of the nature. She would often keep her head on his lap and would tell her about all that had happened in her office. He would laugh, empathize or keep mum. He would discuss the latest poem he wrote and would tell how the hero of his last story is going to be the villain at the climax. She would enjoy everything he said. A kiss; a hug or long strolls holding each other close was a common phenomenon. This place was not their own, but they got attached so much that the very thought of leaving Haridashpur would bring tears in their eyes.

“It’s getting dark, isn’t it Papu.”

“A few minutes more please.”

“Sure.”

She puffed last her cigarette and threw the bud away. She was angry, somewhere deep down. He was not less annoyed too; but then, there was nothing else they could do. They gave an intense thought to the decision. They thought to let go of Papiya’s job and settle down here permanently. They thought of Himu becoming a full time writer and publish a few books. They thought of borrowing money from her father, until they get well off themselves. Nothing lasted – none of their plans. They had to think of the little Pihu, who was in her second year in school. She had a better future in Kolkata, the happening busy city. Moreover, it was a promotion for Papiya and she was posted in the Head Post Office in the capital city. Not every day do you get such an offer – not every day you get such an opportunity to fix your destiny and brighten your future. They had to leave.

“Let’s go.”

She stood up from the bench, holding his fingers. Her eyes were twinkling and Himu could see the flicker in them, even in this twilight. He stood up too. They were about to leave the place.

“Himu,” she said. “I’ll miss this place.”

They hugged. There were tears in their eyes. None saw that – not even the chirping birds hovering above them.

“I will miss this place too, Papu.”

“Very much,” they said in unison and slowly started walking back to their quarters.

................................................................................................................

Written for: Tell a Tale : Week # 7 : Silence

Crossposted at: Thus Wrote Tan!

Mistake: A scary reason

~1~

It was a hard fight. Once more. They have been married for two years now and Alex could not remember a single day when they did not fight. Every time they fight, it would end up in a quarrel and they would not talk for hour or even days! They fought again today. It was grave this time. Julie cursed him as much as she could and locked herself in the other room. She threatened to commit suicide, but Alex knew she would not dare to do so. She would come out in some time and everything will be in place. However, it was almost an hour that she has locked herself and has not uttered a single word since. It was scary, but he knew she would come back. He tried to think about the good times they spent together. The honeymoon in Geneva; the trip to Paris, a year ago; the last Christmas! Those were dream time.

He made himself a peg of scotch. He opened the bottle last week when Joanna and George paid them a visit. Alex liked the bottle more because of the long neck. It feels like long legs of the ladies he use to date – smooth and flawless! He took the first sip. It was awesome. The smell itself is worth the money he spent to buy the bottle. Julie liked it that time. He was missing her all right, but never would he go and call her. Why should he? It was not his fault today. He could not see the ego taking over his love for her.

He finished the bottle and puffed the last cigarette he had. The clock ticked two. What? It was 2 o’clock! And Julie was still locked inside her room! He unlocked his door and walked to her door.

“Julie.” There was no response. Probably she was asleep.

“Julie.” He called her loudly. There was no response still. He called a few more times, but nobody answered. He was anxious for a moment. He tried to look in through the keyhole. The sight inside was blurry, but it was clear that there was a mishap. Julie was lying on her bed and her limbs were swinging outside, as if she was falling down from the bed.

Alex shouted, “Julie. Don’t you dare play any prank on me! Come out, you moron. It’s too late now. I’m hungry.” There was still, no response.

Alex was worried now. He banged the door a couple of times and the latches gave away. He broke in and ran to her and perched by her side. She was lying still. A white froth came out of her mouth. Alex checked her breath and her nerves, but could not find any. She was no more! He stood up in fright. There was a piece of paper on the bed with the following scribbled in:

“Al, my love, I’m leaving you. I’m going to some place where I can be happy and I need not answer to your filthy questions. Our marriage is dead. By the time you read this, you will realize that I’m dead too. I never mistook you for any wrong reasons and I’ve given you all the proofs you wanted to prove my sanity. We have spent all dreadful time together. I thought everything will be all right; but you never cared for my sacrifices and you were always a coward to admit those. I have nowhere else to go, apart from where I’m leaving to. I know you will not be sad and I hold you solely responsible for my act. Goodbye, Al!”

He was afraid now. He could not move; neither could he stand up. He was shivering – more in fear; less in sorrow. Suicide – police – court – judge – sentence – jail! All ran through his mind in a single moment. He probably could hear the siren of a patrolling police car. His face went pallid. He accumulated all his strength and stood up. He looked back at her for once and ran out of the room. He banged his door behind him and threw himself on his bed.

~2~

After a few minutes, Alex opened his eyes.

Oh! What a dream! Was it? No! His door was open and the dead face of his wife was so very vivid to him; it cannot be a dream. He looked around carefully; her door was closed, his hands were still shivering and his heart beating faster, as if he has came running there. It is so real; it can be, but a dream! His wife was dead. And he was responsible for it. It was a suicide and the suicide note clearly mentions that he was accountable for it. Now, there will be police in his house in no time. He cannot escape the long hands of the law and soon he will be trialed and sentenced, probably with a capital punishment for inducing Julie to kill herself. Everyone in the society will know about it and everyone in Illinois will know once the news gets published in the morning paper. His friends, his colleagues and his long forgotten family members will come to know very soon and will spit at him. He almost cured his bad impression, but now, nobody will listen to him and nobody will spare him. None will be interested to listen to his reasons and all will abandon him. There will be no life, even if the jury spares him. There will be no Alex Graham Fox anymore.

Blood was all over his mind – the heart was beating fastest – the head was spinning; probably because of the alcohol inside, and more so with the fear of losing everything. He looked at the empty bottle of scotch. It was lying on the table. It allured him, somehow. He left the bed and held the bottle by its long neck and hit it on the brink of the table. There was a clatter of glass pieces flying around him and hitting the marble floor. The sharp edges of the broken bottle were chilling to look at.

Blood jetted out of his wrist, as he slit it with the broken bottle in his hand. Within a few seconds there was a pool of blood around him. He stared at his severed wrist. The veins were open and the blood streamed out like dammed water out of a sluice gate. As time passed, he felt weaker and hapless. He held his arm with the other hand and sat there in the puddle of blood. Alex could never know when his eyes closed and when he fell unconscious. But seconds before he lost vision, he could see in the wall clock. The time was exactly 1 o’clock! He instantly realized everything, but could not react before falling out cold.

~3~

The wall clock timed 2 AM. The distant church bells rang twice.

The other door knob rotated and the door flung open. Julie came out of her room. Her eyes were already pink; having cried for long hours now. She was feeling hungry too and knew Alex would feel the same. She thought that they can talk over the dinner and settle things, like always. She wanted to forgive Alex for every mistake of his – once more. She was certain to be able to resolve this issue and move on. She came near his door and peeped inside. The sight was bloodcurdling!

“Al, my dear!” she screamed and ran to him. She took his head and put it on her lap and burst into tears. She anticipated nothing of this sort and she was almost broken. The body of her husband lied in front of her, almost lifeless.

~4~

It was 5 AM now or the wall clock in the St. Joseph’s nursing home was running slow. Julie sat in one of the benches near the Operation Theatre, holding her head with both her hands. The hands were still stained in blood. She wished not to look back at the world again. She held herself guilty for all the tragedy that was brought into her life in the last few hours. She just wanted to die.

“Mrs. Fox, he is out of danger now. You can meet him in some time, once the nurses finish up.” The doctor said calmly, coming out of the Operation Theatre and wiping his hands. She looked up, for the first time in some time. Her eyes found a reason to glitter again. She wanted to thank the doctor, but then she almost lost the strength to speak.

“By the way, Mrs. Fox,” the doctor added, “Inspector Smith wants to see you for a moment. He is waiting at the reception downstairs. Take care of yourself.”

Her voice was sinking. She needed attention herself; but the thought of getting her husband back was strong enough to hold her upright. She was worried that the police will interrogate her, but then she was stronger now than ever before.

“Thanks doctor,” said Julie.
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Also Posted in My Blog @ Thus Wrote Tan!
I post it here for all those who have not read it in my blog as yet. Hope you enjoy reading this, as much as I enjoyed writing it for the various prompts :)

Scissors

It cuts
Beautiful.
Gives new identity
Makes lovely dresses out of cloths
Scissors!

As Prompted at: Weekend Wordsmith: 95. Scissors

Jerk!!

First, apologies for using such a word. However, it was neccesary becoz otherwise, it wouldn't have the required impact. This poem is intended to convey a certain emotion and hence, the usage!!
You came into my life one day,
All set to woo me,
Don’t know why the jerk in you,
That time I couldn’t see…

Jerk, you called me every day,
And never failed to praise,
You kept trying to impress me,
In just so many ways…

And finally, I fell for you,
Oh jerk, you had won,
You knew, you had me trapped,
And now you could have fun…

I sincerely cared for you,
I was the fish trapped in your bait,
But, thankfully I saw your true colors,
Before it was too late!

So jerk don’t think that you can play with me,
And then roam scot-free,
I’ll teach you a lesson which you,
Won’t forget till eternity!

( Dedicated to all the guys who do not care about hurting the feelings of girls....hope this poem is a lesson for all of you...)

Cross posted from my blog : http://countless-emotions-mona.blogspot.com/

A Soap Case

Shona was bathing in the pond near her house. It is not their own, but since it is in the neighborhood, everyone in her house used to bath in this pond. A fishpond, but habitually used for bathing and washing. Where else would everybody go? They had only two ponds in the village and the other one is strictly used by the fisheries. She dipped in a couple of times and came out. She was about to keep the soap on the rock near her and it just slipped out of her hands and fell into the water. She dipped in again and searched for a long time, but could not retrieve it. She cried, but no one came to her aid, for it was noon and everybody was busy working in the fields. No one had time to search a soap cake in water for this 7 years old kid. She was alone. She was helpless and she was at fault. This is the second soap in two months that her father bought her a soap cake and she lost it. A soap might cost a huge sum and that was the reason father never used to get her one that frequently. Father will be fuming on this and may not buy her any more soap in the future. She has lost her soap now – probably the last one! Her bathing was over.

She cried for a couple of minutes more, but once she realized that there would be no one coming towards her, she stood up. She gathered her wet cloths and started walking back towards home.

“It’s not my fault at all,” she told to herself. “I asked father to bring a soap case along with the soap. He did not bring it last time too. I warned him about this. Maybe, I did. Whatever, but it’s not my fault. It’s his fault that I lost the soap today. I would not cry anymore. Why should I? Even Lailee lost her soap the other day and she borrowed mine. And this time, it’s not my mistake. I’ll ask father to buy me one more soap and this time and a soap case as well – the pink one!” She was confident now and had all the answers to father’s probable questions.

Shona talked to herself all the way home. She was convinced that it was not her liability that the soap was lost. She was even prepared to face her father now and was sure to scold him for not buying her the case. She would not let him escape by scolding her for no fault of her own. After all, the soap was lost for the want of a case!

She looked around as she crossed the fencing around their house. There was no one there; probably the ladies were all asleep and her father was obviously in the field. She crept in silently. She went to the hanging lines and hung her cloths. She paid her regards to the Gods in the small temple and went inside the house. Everybody else was asleep, as she thought. She went to the kitchen and had her lunch. It was almost time to go to play now and she did not waste a single moment to reach Lailee’s house. She had forgotten about the soap totally by now.

She came back before dusk, cleaned herself and took out her books. She sat on the mat with a bowlful of puffed rice mixed with onions and some mustard oil. It was almost dark and she had to use the lantern. She has just started learning the alphabet and it was fun for her. Everything was so new and funny. No one in the house could read any of those symbols there. If it would not have been for her selfless teaching, her father would not have been able to recognize anything from that book. She was proud because of that and used to put a lot of effort while studying and teaching. She had almost finished the alphabet now and would start learning the digits in some days. She was very happy. She took out the book and started to read the letters on top of her voice.

“Shonaaa…” Her father called her aloud once he entered the premises of the house. She ran out of the house and leaped on him, as any other good evening. The very touch of her father sunk something deep inside her. She remembered the soap! Oh! All her happiness disappeared. She felt vanquished. All her thoughts of self confidence vanished. She was in her father’s arms – the safest place in the world she knew; but that could not stop her from howling out! She grabbed her father with both hands; as tightly as possible and broke into tears. Father kept on asking what happened but did not get a reply. She kept on shedding tears as he was holding her close to him. She cried and cried more and when she was tired, she slept – all the time in her father’s arms. After a long time when there was no more sound and no more tears on his shoulders, the father realized that Shona was asleep. He shook her a little and got no response. He took her to the bed and slowly but carefully laid her down. Just before he left her, two words came out of her mouth, which made no sense to him, “Soap Case.”

Also posted at: Thus Spake Tan! on February 25, 2009.

Written on Theme suggested in Heads or Tails.

Sleeping well!

I was about to sleep. It was a bad day in office. I went home – switched on the TV and had my food. There were news of gunshots and grenade blasts in Mumbai. It was still going on for the second consecutive day and the reporters were bursting with news and live facts that they could gather from the Taj, Oberoi Trident and Nariman House. It was funny to see the neophytes talk without scripts. I wanted to be with them for some more time. I was hoping that they would tell that the fight is over and the buildings are sanitized. I was not able to stay awake and had to sleep. My eyes were weary and wanted to be closed. I switched off the TV and went straight to bed. Fell on it like a dead stick. Someone called from there. I knew it would want to talk. I said, “Yes.” The Pillow said, “Are you trying to sleep?” I said, “No, I am going to sleep.” I thought it would be enough; but no, the pillow continued, “How can you go to sleep, when so many people are still being held inside the buildings by those fanatics? How can you sleep when hundreds of Indian policemen are fighting against terror without food and sleep for scores of hours? Do you think the families of the deceased and the hostages are sleeping? If all these people are awake, can you sleep?” I did not want to answer. I had no answer, for that matter. I pulled one more pillow and covered my head and tried to shut the eyes. I was losing my sleep already, but did not want to stay awake. My friends, the pillows were determined this time, not to let me sleep. They started again, “You were asleep, when the terrorists crept in and killed so many people. You were asleep when they came in and planted bombs in different parts of the country which blew hundreds of people dead and injured. Will you still sleep? Is this a time to sleep? Won’t you go out and do something for this?” I thought, “What can I do?” It seems the pillows could read my mind too. They almost shouted, “Who else can do? Everyone is thinking like this and none is stepping forward. If you do not step forward, how can you expect someone else to obverse to deal with your issues – issues with your own country, your home? If you sleep, you should not expect anyone else to be awake – fighting for your country’s safety – your safety. Did you hear the blasts that took place in Jaipur, Bangalore, Agartala, Delhi and Mumbai? If you did not, who else would? If not you, who will face all these? Who will fight for you? Who will fight for the country? If you do not start, who will?” I disliked this. I did not want to discuss this now. It was not the time – and never the place. It was my bed and I was back after a hard day in office. I wanted to sleep. I was not allowed to. My friends were turning to be my foes. They were right, may be; but I did not want to think if they were not. I have not heard any of the blasts – neither the ones in Bangalore, where I live, nor the ones in Agartala, my native town. Probably I was sleeping. If not, I was in office, resolving technical issues of US people. It has to be shameful but I could not help it. I am having a hard time in office earning my bread and butter. I am not getting paid for what I am doing in office and there is no increment in my salary this time. I had plans – which are now nothing but ruins. I have to talk to my parents regarding a hell lot of issues which I am not able to do for a long time now. I have to fix my fridge and the fan in the bedroom. I have so many works pending – I am just not doing them. And now, the pillows wanted me to fight for the nation? They wanted me to fight the terrorists? What nonsense! What can I do? How can I make any difference? I am no leader, neither am I an activist nor do I have commando training. I am a simple lower middle class man, trying to be the backbone of my family. I do not have time to do my household works, how would I go fight with the extremists there? However, the pillows had good points and their questions were not wrong. But I had no answer. (I still do not have any.) Probably I should think about this – but when and how? I kept on thinking…

The next time I opened my eyes, it was already passed 3 PM. I was late. I left the bed in a jerk. Inserted the tooth brush in my mouth and switched on the TV. The terrorists were still there – the commandoes were still there – the news reporters were still there – the panic was still there. Nothing changed while I was sleeping. Phew! I looked back at the pillows, now scattered hither and thither on the bed and wanted to tell, “See, nothing has changed. Everything is same there.” I laughed within in satisfaction. Then another thought came to my mind: Is it because I was sleeping, that nothing has changed and more panic has been created? I do not know – I am still searching for an answer here …

Posted on December 4, 2008 at You can and you will!!!- The Story of Two Pillows

A Rainy Encounter

It was another Monday and he knew not what to do. The morning was broken and no Sun rose. Dark clouds covered the sky like a thick blanket. A few beams of light came out from here and there but could never match the sunshine he had yesterday. The sip on the cup of tea was bleak – it tasted like syrup and looked like mud water. He kept the cup aside and stood up from the easy chair. He removed the yellow dirty curtains with his shivering hands and moved out in to the verandah. The indoor plants there were still wet from the late night drizzle and so were the streets down. He held the railings tightly and looked up once again towards the sky.

Drops of pearl are hiding
Behind the blanket of cloud
The glacier of rains
Not moving but shouting aloud.

Go away, O cloud great,
Let there be sunshine,
Let the rays pierce my heart
And reach this soul of mine.

No, it would not rain soon, he thought. Is it good time to go out? He looked at his watch, probably for the tenth time this morning and it tells the same time. It was time to sit back at home and get more bored. He turned back towards the door of the verandah and leaned backwards on the railings. He took out the small linen piece to clean his spectacles, again for the tenth time probably. It was shining like gold by now. He cleaned it once more and went inside.

He turned on the TV to see if there was anything interesting. Astha Channel! Damn! There is nobody home today. He need not pretend to be watching this freaking channel anymore. He turned on the Sports Channel. WWF – yeah, the program to watch now. He liked this fat man in red and white, but could not recall his name. Whatever, he was good – he thrashed those two bulldogs the other day and it was fun to watch. Let’s see what he does today to this bear in yellow.

“साब, मैं जाऊँ?” (“Sir, may I go?”) the maid enquired. She has always been so nice to him. Always ready to serve him the way he wants. She’s probably the only person in the world who takes good care of him. Probably an ‘achhut’ (untouchable) – pretty dark, tall and exposing! She must be in her late twenties. She has all those immature gestures of that age. Probably unmarried too, but he never had the guts to ask her. These people do not clad that way too, so you cannot just tell if they are married just by looking at them.

“साब, अब मैं जाऊँ?” (“Sir, may I go now?”) the maid enquired again. Damn!

“सिउली, बेठ न थोडी देर. घर में कोई नही है. थोडी देर बय्ठ्के चली जाना.” (“Shiuli, stay for some time. There is no one in the house. Stay for some time and then go.”)

“साब, दूसरी जगह भी जाना है.” (Sir, I need to go to another place too.)

“अभी, अभी जाना है?” (“Do you need to go right now?”)
“हम्म, नही. थोडी देर बय्ठ्के जाती हूँ.” (“Hmm, no. I shall stay for some time.”)

She sat near him, alongside his easy chair. He felt anxious. She was sitting so close to him that he almost could smell her sweat. He hoped that it starts raining and never stops now.

Rain now,
As if you never did
Wash away the earth along
For, it’s you now, whom I need!

Rain hard,
As long as you want to,
Don’t ask me why, now
Just that I want you.

He could easily feel that Shiuli did not take much interest in wrestling. So, he gave the remote to her and asked her to select a channel she would like to watch. She took the remote with a tiny leap, but then looked back at him as if asking permission. He smiled at her and winked. She was all smiles. Could not read much though, but she was happy getting this unexpected privilege. She browsed through the channels and finally held on to a Hindi movie channel which was showing a not-so-new movie on it. Shiuli seems to be enjoying.

He could not look at her directly, even if he wanted to. He tried to move within his chair as far as possible, but could not get a glimpse of her. He moved again and again in quick succession, but still Shiuli’s beautiful face was away from him. He could feel the togetherness and the proximity, not knowing if Shiuli was feeling the same. He did not care for that. He was trying to get as close as possible, in his own way, from within the boundary of the easy chair.

“गोविंदा मेरा सबसे मनपसंद हीरो है साबजी. आपको भी अच्छा लगता है?” (Govinda is my favorite hero, Sir. Do you like him too?”)

He came out tearing through the spell of her beauty.

“हाँ, हाँ क्यों नही. बहोत अच्छा है. और कौन अच्छा लगता है तुझको?” (“Yes, why not? Whom else do you like?”)

“गोविंदा, शाहरुख़, अमिताभ और सलमान. आपको?” (“Govinda, Shahrukh, Amitabh and Salman. And who’s your favorites?”)

“हाँ, मुझे भी.” (“Yes, I too like them.”)

It started to rain outside. It was drizzling, but now it was heavy – just what he wished for. Shiuli was getting more relaxed and friendly with him. She let go the knot in her hair and let it loose. A subtle fragrance filled the atmosphere. He could feel it – more with every breath he took. At times, she would catch hold of the leg of the easy chair and would shake it. The sudden movement would set a chilling feeling in his spine. He was very excited – a feeling of freedom and mischief was filling his mind. He was about to ask her to close the door to the verandah when she looked up at the wall clock.

“मर गयी साब! नौ बज गया. मुझे दूसरी जगह भी जाना है.” (“Oh My God Sir! It’s 9 o’clock now. I need to go to another place too.”)

“चली जाना. ये फ़िल्म तो खतम करले.” (“Finish this film and go.”)

“नही साब. मुझे अभी जाना होगा. घर में मेरा एक साल का एक बच्चा भी है. अकेला है वो. मुझे अभी जाना होगा.” (“No Sir. I need to go now. I have left my one year old kid back home. It is alone. I need to leave now.”) With these words, she stood up and started to tie her hair.

He was dumbstruck! He never saw that coming, not from any direction he could think of. He felt lost. He felt selfish. He felt weird and shitty. Ashamed! He knew not how to react. A weird feeling filled his head and the feeling moved down through the throat and chest and reached his stomach. It was almost aching! He sat straight in the easy chair, trying to relax. He was breathing heavily – almost audible. He wanted to walk up to the door and open the door by himself, but could not even stand up. His heart was sinking and he could feel it. He could utter no word.

Rain O rain,
Stop pouring!
Take a break and stop for sometime
Let her reach her goal. Then rain again!

The downpour slowed down. Shiuli left, not before reminding him of the glass of milk and his medicines. He raised his right hand as if he promised her to have those on time. She locked the door behind her and threw the key from beneath the door. He need not move towards the door. He could not. He was too ashamed to have looked at her again or to move any further. He sat there for I-don’t-know-how-long. The delicate scent of her body, hair and sweat prevailed, but he could not feel it anymore.

He stood up holding his knees. He walked up to the door to the verandah, removed the curtains and leaned on the railings. He remembered today to be another Monday morning. He ardently hated this time every week for four years, since the time he retired. It was not raining anymore, but the streets down were all wet. He looked up in despair. I am not sure, but probably he cried – for one last time!

A feeling so impure
I felt today,
I would shed tears, but then
Laugh, you may.

What would you do there?
Come down and pour on me
Drench me, soak me and clean me
O Cloud great, I pray to thee…

Cross posted at: Thus Wrote Tan!

heh

इन्तेज़ार

किसीके इन्तेज़ार में
बय्ठे हैं हम राहों में
बरसो बीत गये
ना कोई आया
ना आँखों के समीप
नाही मेरे खयालों में ॥



प्यार तो नहीं था
पर प्यार के ही राहों में हम थे,
ना ज़मीन, ना आसमान था
हर जगह बस हम ही हम थे ।



साहिलों में बय्ठे हुए
उस पार सुरजको डूबते और निकलते हुए देखा
बंध मुट्ठी मे से जैसे रेत निकलती हो
कित्ने ही लम्हे हमने वैसे फिसलते हुए देखा ।



किसीके इन्तेज़ार में
बय्ठे हैं हम राहों में
खूब रोये
पर किसीने याद नहीं की
ना बयठाया पलकों पे किसीने
नाही अपने बाहों में ॥




Also Posted in Thus Wrote Tan!