/we-enter/ it's not the right time, yet the winds from the December has accompanied me and took me by surprise. The gusty, cold zephyr brushing my dried lips and the withered red rose that i hold and here i sit today, at the corridor, from where the sun shines and the rays warmly touches you, kisses you actually, while the kids they play with the withered flowers, dried up leaves and they embrace the fall elegantly and why not? For that one overused statement, it says, "We fall to rise" and i guess this destination, to rise, lies in the journey and this journey is covered with a thin covering of ice over the rivulet, hot chocolates, the warm air inside your lungs that turn foggy when breathed out, dilemma of the loss, acceptance of the pain, steps towards healing and entering into winter. The branches that shed the leaves once in the autumn, don't they grow in winter? Slow yet soothing.
Often winters are a topic of gloom, a season after fall. We fall and we lose but the period after that, we mourn, ache a little and like those small steps of an ant, we heal and that's winter where we live. You know they say, "Selfless part of writing is the most selfless one" and winter sometimes feels like a piece written with that part of life where exists a little of pain and acceptance to it and doesn't that soothes you?
Winter feels like a cozy, warm blanket round my body, the flames of the fire pacifying my palms, shrinking of my feet from the cold zephyr that touches you, warns you and lastly, it hugs you. Winter feels like a rusty, shambled shack filled with the lies of "f-o-r-e-v-e-r-s" but its true somehow because that shack always feels like home, winter feels like this place where i write, old, gelid, c-h-a-n-g-e-d yet it still feels like home where you can have your own space, your own ideas and you bloom, that's for sure. Winter feels like a hodgepodge of nostalgia, sombre days, never ending nights and yet we waked up again to live a little more than yesterday.
It's not yet started but the essence starts flowing in my veins as if it always existed among the trees that kept of changing every season yet the psithurism it had, i never forgot that. It stood as if a poet suffering from alexithymia, suffers to pen down his own feeling yet excels up in penning yours'. It stayed like an abyss and you travel in it, not to fall this time, but to accept..... and rise, maybe? Haha, the same overused statement as i say, "to fall so that you rise".
/man ye saheb ji, jaane hai ji fir bhi banaye bahane
naina nawabi ji dekhe hai sab ji fir bhi na samjhe ishaare/ . .
There's a girl who stands there alongside the wall of the school's backyard, under the orange sky, sun with its most warm rays and the clouds that seems to fade, for its her sky today and she, wanna fly till the place where the winds takes her, till the place where the sky turns pink. Maybe waiting for someone? Just like I do, from that one stall that resides in some corner where the eyes fall sometimes by chance and i do wonder always if she'd ever, by chance, reach to the world that resides at my side of the road. Abandoned yet accompanied by some hopeless promises, incomplete yet complete love and regrets with pleasures.
/man ye saheb ji ha karta bahane naina nawabi ji na samajhe ishaare/ . .
There's a universe that she hides in her eyes with her every blink, each second. And every time I fall in that endless journey of love that her eyes take me to. With a withering flower that's preserved in me for her, asks me that when will it be that moment when this flower might be accepted, or crushed? And then there's a soft drizzle of ignorance that I sprinkle over it every time she ties her hair and she runs away like she does, every evening and the flower stays in me, abandoned from a heart that stutters to say what it feels and accompanied by a strange feeling of incomplete love that she leaves behind for me. And every evening i stand there for the time she comes and she goes, every possible excuses that i make to my mind are all every possible ways to love her, to choose her.
/dheere dheere naino ko dheere dheere jiya ko dheere dheere bhaayo re saibo
dheere dheere begaana dheere dheere apna sa dheere dheere laaage re saibo/
/surkhiyaan hai hawaon mein do dilo ke milne ki haa arziyaan hai nazaro mein lamha ye tham jaane ki/ . .
for that one seraphic moment, time never stops, zephyr feels to slow down even more, sun shines a little less and every light ray that pierces the fine, small spaces that exists among the numerous leaves of the tree, falls on her and i stay like a night sky filled with stars and moon and fireflies, beautiful enough, yet not interested to be one. For the night, the sun sets and she, goes away, just like every time. Ethereally, aesthetically eternal moments, when did they even stop, right?
/kaise huzooor ji ye lab dikhlaaay chuppi laga ke bhi gazab hai ye dhaay/ . .
The time fails to bow, heart loses, eyes fail to peek into hers' and i stutter and stammer and i fail, yet again, to take the steps that crosses this world of mine, to enter into the hers'. My mind that carries absolutism wins every time and my heart loses, yet it falls for her for o-n-e m-o-r-e t-i-m-e and will she ever know it? Maybe yes, maybe no.
And that's how i take the flower withered and preserved, keeping it again betwixt the pages of my diary, for both of them to stay till her eyes fall on the same corner where i stand, till the time when my eyes will meet hers', so i keep my hand over my heart and slowly do i whisper...
/dheere dheere naino ko dheere dheere jiya ko dheere dheere bhaayo re saibo
dheere dheere begaana dheere dheere apna sa dheere dheere laaage re saibo/ . .
~Shrey . . .
Inspired from the song, Saibo, by Sachin-Jigar. From the movie, Shor in the City. You guys heard it? You should, actually. #mirakee#writersnetwork
/stay/ You left like you never had a reason to stay,
crescent moon that shined more, and more than it usually does, defined a beginning and an end, of course. After all things ends, to start and to end wasn't my choice and to stay, wasn't yours'
the sky that was bereft of the sun, settled with the night. the night that lacked the moon settled with the stars and for the one that broke down, to fall and to fall for a wish to be made, was me. I settled with the wish you made and you did with the pieces you broke.
if clouds were your reason to stay but the skies were mine i see, you've faded from me taking away the yellows of mine
For you were to leave anyway like you never had a reason to stay.
/if happy forever was a lie, misery always isn't true either/
You once told me how the roses that you carried with thorns mixed with the blood running in your nerves, how your blooming days were nothing but a one step closer to the dooms that weren't even planned, but you saw it coming everyday in your morning dreams and your restless night.
You once told me, how the stars above us are aligned perfectly but today i realise, how those alignment of stars weren't a mere moment of miracle, it was our eyes that saw them and it was us who joined them, for we knew how to be happy even if we might not destined to be, eventually.
You once told me about the bus ride you had with the last seat you sat on, were you in your own world where your earphones were your savior? Because for me, i remember there was a lady with her wrinkled face, that you may call ugly, had the most beautiful smile yet the bad luck to serve patriarchy that rested on her weakened shoulders, for her it was the little moment when a stranger who helped her get in the bus and for me it was her smile for that one second and we both lived the moment. For her it was the girl, and for me it was her. But you weren't done with the day when your final judgment was to be announced.
You once told me how badly you wanted to laugh and be happy, maybe like the old times but then you died everyday just because you were to die eventually or atleast you thought that way.
You aimed for the stars to settle once again, like they did once while for me, I adjusted with the fireflies to live with it, a little less happier than i was earlier, but does that count?
soul refers to a cell here, functional and structural unit of life. Idk how true it is but i just saw it in a picture how a star dies forming supernova and how a cell is born from the pre-existing one. Also, idk if this suits for paradox but who cares, the challenge is over anyway
When you practice gratitude it makes you look at things in a better way. Leaves will rumble when the wind is gusty, wilted ones too. And who says that a dead leaf isn't beautiful. Grey is always associated with Gloomy mood, I have great reverence for people who have decoded what grey is. I have great reverence for people who are resilient. Not everyone can tolerate and not break, but you don't have to tolerate when you have a mouth to speak, you should. Anger, sadness won't subside if you won't treat it. Silence could be an antidote but the hurt won't fade if you won't talk about it. When the grey clouds gather up in the sky they protect you from heat, sometimes the drops are forgiveness for your sins, sometimes the drops sting like nudges from Scissorhands. Many of us are not what we tell others, we picturise how we want to be perceived by others. Many of us don't talk about how we were bad to others but won't stop for a minute if someone does the same. When you get happier, you forget these things. It's so liberating to forget things, to forget how people looked, how they sounded, how they had lit up your day once and how they ended up ruining you.
As I have already said, a poet is a poet only when he is writing a poem. I will be a human again as I go back to have lunch and forget about what I had written.
i. The rain is falling On silent meadows A cascade of silver tears Spilling from the fringes Of the blue horizon
But the sky only visits me in my dreams Telling me
ii. Your smile is a lie, A portal of bleeding gums, Hiding crumbs of sadness Between bites of soft memories And sips of cozy mornings
iii. Two lovers found a sweet escape In the eyelashes of a Forget Me Not But alas! it was all a dream, A fading song's haunting refrain
Through the looking glass
iv. Her eyes look like unheard stories Telling and retelling Once-Upon-a-Times Counting gasps In the mood of Oh-My-Gods
v. When flowers bloom at The first kiss of spring She sits on the shoulders of farewells Awaiting the sky to Unfurl the petals of a new dawn Subduing the blues of a withering sunset Alongside the steady rhythm Of April refrain.
We could have been mistaken A married couple Cruising the world In style If only no one pulled the trigger And shot Cupid in the eye
We could have been Honeymooners in Maldives Sunbathing, Stargazing, Barenaked in the sand Yet, here we are Writing poems about bullets and graveyards As if the pristine sky Has gone mad
I know a dream Could end so soon Before you figure out what's going on, And the clock would stop ticking Dragging the labored whiffs of dawn
In places where the sun has failed to visit I'm a broken memory of a leaf Stitching flimsy patterns, The fragments of my swollen mistakes, No one told me What once made your toes curl In time could turn to dust, For all along I thought that love would last forever, But, oh well, I was wrong.