For Nanya - a part of my soul..

When life deals its traumatic blows,
I wish to be the armour around you.
When destiny shoots its piercing arrows,
I wish to hover like a cloud above you.
For every heartache that torments,
I wish to be the shield inside you.
For each sad thought that haunts,
I wish to be a smile that lightens you.
For all the stumbling blocks you encounter,
I wish to be the downy grass below you.
For all the doubts that make you falter,
I wish to be the beacon guiding you.
When faith seems to fall asunder,
I wish to be the belief that upholds you.
When  darkness seems to draw you under,
I wish to be the radiance that illuminates you.
But Dear Child, wishes are all I have to offer,
A friend and a mother is all I can be to you..



 

one last wish...

Before the lights go out
And the world stops hearing my music

One last song,

Lets sing the blues away….

Before the day dims out

And people stop believing in magic,

One last picture,

Lets paint the pain away…..

Before the night fades out

And the crowds stop swaying to rhythm

One last waltz,

Lets dance the loneliness away….

Before the wind blows out

And the storm settles to emptiness

One last swirl,

Lets sweep the heartache away…..

Before the clouds melt out

And the sky returns to its placid hue

One last flight,

Lets soar to our dreams, the eagles way…

Before time runs out

And there is nothing left of today

One last moment,

Lets wipe the bitterness away…

or let the lights be turned out,

Let the crowds melt away,

Lets put up our easel

And create some magic,

Dance to the rhythm of the storm,

Soar to paint pictures in the clouds,

Let time be a bystander

All I have is today….

A mirage unseen..

Destiny etches our lives

and draws its pictures

we are but portraits

placed in its layout...

Strange are the ways of fate;

when all is seen and lived

when the path to be trod is decided

then it unravels one untravelled..

when all hopes and desires

are subjugated to rote

then, there flashes a dream

a vision unreachable...

its slave I choose not to be

to clear my eyes

and walk on unwavering

on footsteps traced ere...

A mirage have I seen

a chimera in my mind

but evanescent are these

and reality is to be...

In that bewitching hour

I saw the sun and moon meet

but forever will they be apart

and that is how it has been...

Not the progeny of our creators,

we are souls that emerge

out of the nothingness of being

and yet still live, by the writ...

Tailored thoughts, tutored emotions,

rites to be performed

the chore of breathing;

our act of living...

...

तुम्हारी छोड़ी हुई,
स्याह सी रात को,
हम ऊँगली थामे,
सहर तक पहुंचाते रहे..
और दिल में दबी हुई,
अनकही ख्वाहिशों को,
 फ़साने बना, उसे
हर पल बहलाते रहे..
जब लगी बुझती हुई,
दूर चमकते सितारों को,
सपनों का देश बता,
उसे हौसला दिलाते रहे..
पर एक रोज़ थकी हुई,
छिटक कर इन हाथों को,
बोली सहमी सी, कांपते हुए,
'क्यूँ यूँ तनहा चलते रहें?
आज यह तम्मना हुई,
ढूंढ लूं उस चाँद को,
जो रोशन सफ़र करे,
राह मे मेरा  हमकदम रहे...
हर लम्हा कम होती हुई,
इस मुख़्तसर ज़िन्दगी को,
झूठी किस्से कहानियों से,
कब तक यूँ  बहलाते रहें?'
नादानी से भरी हुई,
सुनकर उसकी आरज़ू  को,
भरकर अपनी आगोश में,
देर तक उसे समझाते रहे..
है किस्मत तेरी  लिखी हुई,
चांदनी न समझ खुद को,
डरना क्या अंधेरों से,
हम तो उन्हें भी दिल में समाते रहे..
और फिर हारी हुई,
अपनी तनहा सी रात को,
लेकर अपनी बाँहों में,
उस पर प्यार बरसते रहे..

absence...

The glistening pointed church spire,
like a warrior's sword raised higher,
among the dark billowing clouds,
to rend the sombre menacing shrouds..
The timid, tremulous, powdery rain,
the lacy weave on the window pane,
steaming cup of coffee, freshly ground,
endless words, tepid brew, quickly downed..
The joyful liberated dance of trees,
the quest for freedom, of the leaves,
the gush of wind, music in the rush,
nature in motion, hearts in a hush..
The ballooning umbrellas, feet in a hurry,
the trepidation, the nostalgia, the glee,
all of the creator's power makes sense,

all replicated, but for you, as audience...

कल रात शमा से पूछा, यूँ ही,
है किसकी चाहत की जिसमे जलती हो तुम
कभी साहिल को देखा भी नहीं
फिर भी रात पार करती हो तुम..?
अँधेरे के दामन में छुपी हुई
किस उम्मीद को बहलाती हो तुम,
जबकि है साथ सिर्फ तन्हाई
फिर भी नाचती रहती हो तुम...?
कच्चे  से धागे से बंधी हुई
किसके इश्क में तबाह होती  तुम,
जबकि मिली है सिर्फ बेवफाई,
फिर भी यूँ लगन लगाती हो तुम...?
मोहब्बत का हक अदा करती हुई
कभी यूँ ही सहम जाती हो तुम,
आंधी जो आगोश में भरले कभी
वफ़ा की मिसाल ही कहलाती हो तुम...?
आज क्यूँ तुमसे मिलकर लगा यूँ ही
की जैसे जूनून की हो पहचान तुम,
मेरे जानिब भी हो ऐसी आशिकी
फना हूँ जिसपर, जैसे होती हो तुम...

...Lost for words...

Amit calls me an 'agony aunt' because of my ability to make people trust me with all their woes and worries and I have always prided myself on my 'higher than average' empathy factor which gets people to confide in me. I have also thought that I have the ability to listen impassionately though not insensitively and offer a logical and easy way of dealing with 'situations'. And yet today, I wished I could have been like most people around me, that I did not have this emotional-accessibility factor. Something happened which stopped me dead in my track and I have been feeling lost ever since...

There is a customer of my branch, an old lady, a sweet and gentle soul always full of cheer and kind words,  a little waif of a person, so small and delicate she actually looks like a  fragile china doll. She invokes such a protective feeling in me and for some odd reason she has taken a great liking to me and insists that I must take care of all her banking needs even though I am in another department and have no reason to do so. She never forgets to send me a cake for Christmas or Easter and has me forever indebted to her for all the love and affection she showers on me.

There is something strange I have noted about her ever since the time I have known her and this has also been a cause of concern for me. Every single time that she visits the branch she has one or the other bone broken! It is either the right leg, the left one, the wrist or the elbow..it goes on but I have never seen her whole and well. I have often suggested that she should visit a good ortho to have the problem examined but she laughingly passes it off as 'the side effects of old age' coupled with the  mishaps resultant of living alone (she is a widow).

Today, like all other times, she called (to confirm if I was free and available) and then dropped in to my office. One look at her and I knew she was in excruciating pain, so as I escorted her to a chair, I jokingly asked her, which one is it this time. Unlike her past answers, this time her reply was subdued as she said it was her ribs. Like all the previous occasions, I again entreated with her to visit a good doctor about the fragility of her bones, even offering to accompany her, if required. And then the unexpected happened - she started to cry!

I was stricken by remorse that maybe it was my casual approach to her ailment that caused the reaction and I tried to comfort her but it was as if a dam had burst. After a while, as she calmed down, she said words which ring in my ears even now; she told me that all the accidents of the past times, all those broken bones, had been caused- not by a deficiency or physical weakness- but was the handiwork of her daughter(!) who lived with her and was a spinster, who blamed the mother for her single status and thrashed her mercilessly at the slightest provocation.

It was at that moment I wished, albeit selfishly, not that she was elsewhere, safe and comfortable, but, that I could have been elsewhere or someone else. I wished it were possible to 'unhear' those words because today I lost my ability to remain impassioned and offer logical advice in the face of her reality. What solace can one offer to such a mother who only prays every single day 'that her own child would take what she wants but atleast leave her capable of fending for herself in her old age'. How does one offer logic to a helpless old lady who waits on her only child despite her broken bones, despite the pain and the injury, in the fear that she may be inflicted with even more, should she be caught slacking her pace. She, who has so much of love and affection to shower on a stranger, who speaks a few kind words, is treated like dirt by her own progeny? There are those who pray to the almighty to be blessed with a child and here, before me, was a woman who beseeched the lord each day, for deliverence from one...

As she got up to leave, I was numb and though I escorted her to her cab, she has stayed on in my heart and always will...