The Rainy season- A random musing
Like the beautiful flowers of palash, popularly known as fire of the forest, I was burning . The inner turbulence like the upheaval of tides made me rise and fall against the heavy rocks of life.
Had the shore been sandy ,I wished to have laid myself on the shore surrendering to the splashing waves of a sea,but nonetheless,it was n’t such.It was rocky.
Life isn’t what we dream and wish for! We have to create a path to realize this dream and then walk on it ,many a times getting pierced by innumberable thorns .
The fragrance which disseminates in the atmosphere is usually of the wild flowers growing on open meadows and hillsides, those which bring freshness in life and also in the monotonous mundaneness. Pruned, I loved watching birds flying in the sky, they seemed to be so happy, free and delighted ,marching towards their goal . Their wings unfettered and whistling to their favourite tunes they sang whenever they wished .
A sense of freedom filled the heart and I wished I could fly thus like the wading birds.
The riot of colours in the evening sky brought more nostalgia as I walked towards the mound on the top of the mountain. This rainy season, nothing had changed.
Sneak I through the silence
shearing the quiet fear ,
As I shred
filaments of pain in pieces and bury deep
in gravels of past .
The new saplings of hope grow and flourish
blooming cluster of flowers
few sprinkling drops rejuvenate when they are about to die
Tis law of nature , I , mere the gardener
Come ,lets drown the precarious apprehensions
And live freely to create murals as
I can’t let it die
The solitary poetic sigh
Which breathes in minute pauses
Betwixt the gaps of worldly duties and entangled chores
Neither let it suffocate in the fumes of intoxicating insecurities
Nor allow the pangs of survival and existence wipe the ethereal pastels
Those vernacular treasures fastened securely in caskets of thoughts
Transform as they rise and glow as embers in the sky to twinkle till ages eternal.
Dried , my ink with the dryness of my heart
bloodless have been my veins
thus the pen moves empty
scribbling lifeless words
swiping away desires ,
the heart stranded bruised and over bruised
with thousand wounds..
No, blood can’t be infused back
I run incessantly with blemishes
Tis the invisible dagger that slits and pierces
an indifferent song again dances
on the thumping beats of my heart
yet again, the wound stings
letting the searing tears reign the start
blisters, how many,
how doth they vanish … by any magic balm?
I swallow the flood of extremeness
in a moment I hide behind my stretched smile
how far, how long
the deep bruise prolongs
let me know O! my lord
…under this dark
with thy drops of twinkle
I hope and hope till the last
of an infinitesimal moment
whence the flower will be caressed and
not slit with the invisible dagger
of a morning , of a dawn
of an era,
while I live on.
Thou as tall as the majestic Everest
thy length can never be measured in yards
thy width expandable as the vast azure
I lose my self in the blueness of thou ! Krishna
in thy depth is the ecstatic endless ocean
I immerse and submerge
in the sublime waves
to dive deep
and reach the zenith of bliss.