Tuesday, 17 May 2011
Silently they sat in the rooftop terrace. Slender leaves of tall coconut trees were sweeping the silicon sky in gentle southern breeze while bathing naked in silvery moonshine. Their sunk faces were half-lit in faint glow of nearly-burnt candles—broken souls of twenty five soldiers arrayed in stupefying defeat of their fallen martyr—and half-silken in gleaming touches of the pretty princess of the Night . Upon a tiny stool stood an image of their little angel—their Angelica, their Anjali—lovingly puffing nine colourful candles elegantly placed upon a boat-shaped cake in dazzling splendour in blushes on her angelic face. It was another Full Moon evening....of the last ride together. Drawing sweet tales from hidden chest of remembrances tears went on whispering into Deepsikha’s ears—creeping into cells of her soul.
“Papa, don’t worry—I’ll sail it—we will cross all seven seas and reach the Dreamland. Mom, don’t be afraid of those monsters. See, I’m with you.”
An innocent child could not even know why was she kidnapped...and sold...or perhaps, killed. The seed that was just turning to bloom upon a solitary plant at the confluence of two streams of spiritual consciousness was nipped before one could even define it as a bud. All around remained dispassionate...proud society remained satiated in its progressive deeds while semblance of religiosity faded into faces of curses eroding essence of itself.
Inertly sat Robert and Deepsikha—alike figurines exposed to hidden giggles of destiny—counting days and nights and months and years—long twenty five years of holding the seed closeted only to wailing souls. Remembrances hum on dirge....
Along wafts of intoxicated breeze of the spring
All have gone to the woods in this moonlit night;
Nay, I won’t go out but confine myself to
Own silent corner of my room;
Oh No ! I shan’t go out tonight
Amidst revelling breezes of the spring.
I am to cleanse my home, wipe it with all care;
I will need to stay awake for I know not
When would she recall me and arrive
Amidst waft of intoxicated breeze of the spring.
(Poetic part is transliteration of Tagore’s “Aaj Yotsna Rate Sabai Gechhe Bone”)
Between leafs of time S leeps the untold tale of life, In dreams of love and love of dreams. Smudging the margin in between The ...
Only roses know the best of love And lips know the saddest lies So do I of a weird dream That bleeds but never dies The templ...
The pavement borrows romance from dry smile of a dying moon; the night bleeds in unprovoked assault of moments redefining mirth and birt...
Kids, I’m sorry to be late in offering you a vacation topic to ponder over. Here it is (Just a few lines for you only in the midst of a bit ...