 |
| This is the other part of love...the pain it can give. Love never accepts defeat. It takes away the soul from the body...and leaves nothing...but loneliness... |
As customary, me, out on the streets,
crawling to my place, holding a smile,
Left behind, a ruined castle,
feeling so fresh, so agile...
Walking across the streets, my eyes go round,
Look!, Ropewalker moving with grace,
Wow!, Candyseller, selling sweetest candies,
This is Arab, my land, my place...
That boy, showing tricks,
and kids, fighting around,
Mothers maddened, lashing into fury,
My laugh, without any bound...
Here's my place, a pigmy stall,
Screaming...Two pots a coin,
Soil, my god and hands, my tools,
My workplace, my hallowed ruin...
And a fine day, me,
searching for a coin on the ground,
"Two pots please...", Ahh!
That melodious voice, held me spellbound...
Looked up with a frown,
An outsider, I guess,
So good at our tongue,
Grace and decency, enough to impress...
That night, Extinct in her notions,
Thought about her demeanor, her way,
May she'll come again, Next day,
I just woke up and sway'd...
On my way, I found her,
But this time in pain,
Rushed to help her, Didn't know,
if her aura, was the chain...
In an unknown forest,
Butterfly had lost her hive,
And this newly smitten bug, ready to lead,
Enchantment was still alive...
She told me about her country,
told me, about her job,
And me, stunned, lost in her,
could see, her only, in that infinite mob...
Routine incessant meetings,
Little quarrels, giggles, cries,
An unseen bond, sprouting up,
An unnamed relation, about to rise...
Time wheel rolled on,
My soul, coalesced with her,
And I decided that night,
"Tomorrow, I'll propose her"...
Stirred up, to the peak,
Was mugging up, my part,
Ecstatic weather, took my heart,
And then came, her cart...
That Elysian girl, descended,
But this time, with a swain,
told me, he was her fiance,
Yusuf, was his name...
Silence...It felt as if,
Touched by the icy hands of death,
Entire skeleton, lost sensation,
A mortal being, with no breath...
That was her last day, at our place,
My heart, saturated with pain,
My dreams, demolished brutally,
The castle was a ruin again...
The market remained as busy,
But now no pigmy stall, just sand,
Someone heard people gossiping, A lad
found dead, with a foreign coin, in his hand...
- Kshitiz Upadhyay
No comments:
Post a Comment