The trouble with sunrise is that it comes and it goes and then my dear friend you forget that the sun ever rose because from then on, it’s all about the time it went!
As she flowed by many a twists and taverns, struggling to keep up with the pace of the times, she broke into numerous tributaries, splitting herself into a myriad pieces, like a loaf being dissected by a knife, unable to identify the other piece as its own after a while!
She flew and rustled noisily, with the dry leaves of autumn, waiting to be crushed by the weight of the indecisive time. Don’t say that nature simply lives, for if that was the case, then there wouldn’t be any seasons, or tides or full moons. And Oh! What about the dull white snowy days bringing its own seasonal affective disorder? Ha! And you said “The tree stands still, the leaves grow and die and the flowers blossom and dry”. I turned to you and said:
“When the trees stand still, they talketh of their perseverance
When the leaves grow, they speaketh of their liveliness in their greenness
When they die, they whisper of a silent death, that they always knew of
When the flowers blossom, they celebrate and rejoice, for they burst into mature adults after being buds
And yes, they too dry and fall……
Only to unite with the earth to be born anew!”
Your eyes wide open, couldn’t fathom the lines spoken by me. I smiled a silent smile, for there were a million pieces that couldn’t be brought together to brave a big smile.
She continued to flow, with partial awareness of the world around her and complete insight of her state! The trouble with being conscious of your quandary like existence is that even as you are aware, the answers in no way can be sought to your own whims and fancies. You got to weigh the wait. If only she could take a pause and not flow. But how could she, for flow was her second name. The villagers spoke to the other “ Look at her, so pure and beautiful, as she flows by!” “ Appearances are often deceptive My Lord, she softly replied and flowed by.
On her way she met a thousand thorns, branches which tried choking her, the dust of the lands entered her system, worn out, she tried to cleanse! Just when those moments struck by, the skies hugged her tight and they both shed a million drops, some leading to floods, and some harvesting far off lands. The nights were weary and heavy, the stars silent and bereft of the moon’s warmth, even as it stood by like a rock. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The Moon, in its absent presence whispered to her“So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.” If only, she could fled far away on hearing him these words say. She flowed and flowed, unoblivious of the questions that broke two hearts and thoughts that ravaged and plundered the beatitude of the night.
Tired and exhausted she found herself near a shore, where the soft sands absorbed her weight. The waves, her blanket, helped her sleep by. Her eyelids, still heavy, woke to answers that she always knew. She reached for a shell, opened, saw a shiny stone which read “I’m still here” and she smiled a teary smile.
The eyes lifted to the horizon far beyond, one that had melted away the anguish and inspired her to meet the sea. Neither a loser nor a winner, for the love that had ignited was to be believed!
The sun that rose , went and didn’t feel like that ‘One’
But, the blessing with sunrise is that it goes and it comes!
P.S: The lines in Red are by Pablo Neruda
As she flowed by many a twists and taverns, struggling to keep up with the pace of the times, she broke into numerous tributaries, splitting herself into a myriad pieces, like a loaf being dissected by a knife, unable to identify the other piece as its own after a while!
She flew and rustled noisily, with the dry leaves of autumn, waiting to be crushed by the weight of the indecisive time. Don’t say that nature simply lives, for if that was the case, then there wouldn’t be any seasons, or tides or full moons. And Oh! What about the dull white snowy days bringing its own seasonal affective disorder? Ha! And you said “The tree stands still, the leaves grow and die and the flowers blossom and dry”. I turned to you and said:
“When the trees stand still, they talketh of their perseverance
When the leaves grow, they speaketh of their liveliness in their greenness
When they die, they whisper of a silent death, that they always knew of
When the flowers blossom, they celebrate and rejoice, for they burst into mature adults after being buds
And yes, they too dry and fall……
Only to unite with the earth to be born anew!”
Your eyes wide open, couldn’t fathom the lines spoken by me. I smiled a silent smile, for there were a million pieces that couldn’t be brought together to brave a big smile.
She continued to flow, with partial awareness of the world around her and complete insight of her state! The trouble with being conscious of your quandary like existence is that even as you are aware, the answers in no way can be sought to your own whims and fancies. You got to weigh the wait. If only she could take a pause and not flow. But how could she, for flow was her second name. The villagers spoke to the other “ Look at her, so pure and beautiful, as she flows by!” “ Appearances are often deceptive My Lord, she softly replied and flowed by.
On her way she met a thousand thorns, branches which tried choking her, the dust of the lands entered her system, worn out, she tried to cleanse! Just when those moments struck by, the skies hugged her tight and they both shed a million drops, some leading to floods, and some harvesting far off lands. The nights were weary and heavy, the stars silent and bereft of the moon’s warmth, even as it stood by like a rock. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The Moon, in its absent presence whispered to her“So I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.” If only, she could fled far away on hearing him these words say. She flowed and flowed, unoblivious of the questions that broke two hearts and thoughts that ravaged and plundered the beatitude of the night.
Tired and exhausted she found herself near a shore, where the soft sands absorbed her weight. The waves, her blanket, helped her sleep by. Her eyelids, still heavy, woke to answers that she always knew. She reached for a shell, opened, saw a shiny stone which read “I’m still here” and she smiled a teary smile.
The eyes lifted to the horizon far beyond, one that had melted away the anguish and inspired her to meet the sea. Neither a loser nor a winner, for the love that had ignited was to be believed!
The sun that rose , went and didn’t feel like that ‘One’
But, the blessing with sunrise is that it goes and it comes!
P.S: The lines in Red are by Pablo Neruda
1 comment:
meri to bolti hi band ho gayi padh ke...awesome :)
Post a Comment