In Aspiration…

There are no questions left,
nor any answers left to be sealed.
Its just me ,
in the midst of that vast white space,
hiding behind  the infinity.
I call out in an unknown voice and wait for the echo
to pierce through my senses,
to mute my voice
and to be called by no name. 
There are no lines left to be read,
no words for my blank white sheet.
Its just me,
playing with the pile of meanings – intangibly spread in the air.
I feel them breathe,  smell their space  and
know why they belong to me.

Technorati Tags: Infinity,white,senses,nameless,words

Not All is Love

He saw something in her eyes which was alien. It was like a faint grey  that had showed up in those beautiful eyes. She wasn’t quite herself – uneasy and lost.He took her hand and waited for her to look up at him with tears rolling down her cheeks. “I am sorry” were all the words she spared.

She saw  reflection of her own eyes in his' and  recalled how she had fallen for his ‘talkative eyes’. Over the past season of troubled waters he had subtly and sensitively done his best to bridge the gulf but she had never let the water calm. Now submerged in the same flood she groped for the bridge, for the hand in help she had persistently refused. He would understand   -  was all she knew and could think of at the moment.

"In spite of all differences I have never, never wanted to be... I am sorry, I am really sorry."

All these months he had patiently cared for her silence and had never forced her into words. He had  faith in his love and waited for the wall to crumble but now the wall had come crashing on him.  Shrinking back to his own self, he looked at the truth of not being able to revert what has happened.She had been unfaithful but not willingly perhaps, it could have been her weakness but not her deliberate will. And that was the worst of it all, he had always made such earnest efforts to understand her that it came naturally to him. He could not bear to be sympathetic to her weaknesses at a time he least wanted to be reasonable. How could he be mad at her even after knowing the loneliness that gripped her over the years , the void that neither of the two could fill, the void that had almost become a part of them and had now taken a different meaning and echoed various sounds.

Though throughout the period of differences she had blamed him for causing her pain ,it was he who suffered the agony of being in love of her,of being blamed by her and of believing in the better and happier morrow. Pain for him was locked up within and cloaked with hope but not liberated by it.

The sudden downpour on the agony he had nurtured with such care, dissipated it in a cruel coldness that almost burned the inner walls of his self. He saw the tears ceaselessly and pleadingly trickling down her cheeks and it irritated his bruises further. The ire cooled and in no time left him with bruises and blisters all over.It could not cool and push him to suffocation. It could not…

He pressed her hand ,tears stopped and in her eyes he saw the grey die for the blue.He saw pain metamorphose into hope in her eyes and he felt himself disintegrating into meaningless nothings.

 He slighted her head that rested on his shoulder and left her hand, took his eyes away from her and walked towards the door. The sudden coldness was unfamiliar and knocked at her walls within. She knew what to make out of it but shrunk from facing it.

He opened the door and walked out, leaving her with a parting glance and in that glance was captured the colour of dusk  in her eyes and a profound sense of equality.

Technorati Tags: love,togetherness,pain and equality.

For the Zenith of the Sky

 

I wish I could play the mellifluous song

that blesses with

a silent harmony of voices.
I wish I could weave that web of words
which when opened leaves not
a single thread for the eye that sees.

Alas! I flock far away

In a fury of jumbled nothings.
The song floats in the air,
with the wing of words to soar high.

My hands spread

hope for the zenith of the sky

and my soul in shackles,

tiptoes the earth to fall off

from the heaven of life.

Technorati Tags: life,sulime aspirations and soul

I Believe ...

He ran across the streets almost in a fit, pushing through the crowd as if waging a war against all who came in his way. Almost breathless by the time he reached home, he banged the door open and asked aloud,

“Ma where is the little girl?”

“Little girl, whom are you talking about?”

“The little girl Ma, what do you mean by who?”

She hardly had the time to listen to him, the dough had to be made, vegetables cut and cooked, the house cleaned and then her own daily rituals of worship to be performed.

“You have become selfish ”, he said while hunting madly for the “little girl” amidst the heaps of old newspapers and rags piled up in one corner of the room; “don’t you care for that puny creature?”

She had got quite used to her son’s blabbering to respond to or get perplexed about what he said.

Tired by his solitary search for someone whom her mother refused to recognize, for someone only he cared and no one else did, he sat and shut his eyes in desperation.

How could he find her, he didn’t even remember what she wore or how she looked? But he had seen her enter; he had seen her enter his house in the dark of night when the sky was glowing red by the reflection of the fire that burnt the houses in the village.

He had seen her, from behind the curtain, enter the house and hide herself behind those pots in the garden. He had heard her moan in fear or pain; which he knew not. Only that he was too scared to go and get her in.

But she could not have gone out with all the violence on the streets. She had to be there inside his house, he would give her to eat, make her sleep comfortably; tell her that everything would be fine.

But where was she? Nowhere in the vicinity, he had searched everywhere. How could she just vanish like that?

He broke into an irrepressible cry, “I have to find her or I shall be doomed Ma, help!”

She made him rest on her lap, stroking his hair with care, “Son, it might sound crude but it is the truth. It is perhaps the cycle of nature, men fall in love with creation, get amazed by its wonders, explore it on their own terms and then … then again creation takes back all unto it self and creates again.

Don’t be afraid. Pray. ”

He couldn’t bear her words, “I am not afraid, you don’t understand.

I want to help, to save that little girl; it is not safe for her to be out now.

You have lost faith, haven’t you? But I haven’t Ma.

I have faith in me; I’ll go and find her.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, where fate had drawn an inscrutable web of lines, and moistened her eyes until she could no longer clearly see her son’s hopeless face.

“God bless!” is all she could utter as he walked out in a search only he could define and know.