A child he was
With playful warmth
And eternal joy
Chortling gaily
When little things
Attract his open attention.
A man he was,
Long of limbs
With fluid movements,
His joints in action.
A sports aficionado he was
Playing all games,
And making man`s plays.
This man child
Loved his ways,
Sporting and otherwise.
He went through life
In gay abandon
But in carefree warmth
Towards his fellowmen,
Helping where needed-
A joy to the world
And a pleasure to himself.
Into my days, the girl stepped in;
She tapped and tapped
And brought rhythm to my days.
She tapped on Sunday
And the Sun shone brighter.
She tapped on Monday
And the Moon cast silvery light.
She tapped on Tuesday
And kept Tyr from waging war.
She tapped on Wednesday
And the patch-eyed Wodin smiled.
She tapped on Thursday
And Thor flung his hammer.
She tapped on Friday
And Freya came to the house.
She tapped on Saturday
And sent misfortune’s Saturn away.
For the rest of my days,
Let her tap away my days.
Like the blissful songs of morning birds,
Like the joyful voices of singing cherubs,
Like the silvery droplets of the wooded cataracts,
And like the tinkling of silver bells,
Children’s laughter reached my ears and soul
And I welcomed it as parched earth during drought
Soaked in the first drizzle of the Monsoon rains,
Refreshing and rejuvenating,
My ailing heart with its plethora of aches,
Torn memories and fruitless dreams .
I woke to the plays of my grandchildren
And shook of my lethargy and doldrums
To face living another day.
I gazed
Into twin pools of amber
Fringed by curly long lashes
And drowned.
The black flecks in the pupils
Wrought mischief around me.
It was just my first glance;
I was enticed and enthralled,
Feelings churned up and around.
This was NEW!
Heart palpitated
And shook with doubts
Of unreadiness
For the tumult,
For the havoc,
For the surges and ebbs,
And the unchatered realms.
What is this, queried self,
Tremulous from the first attack
Of love at first sight.
I breathed love
In Spring’s fragrance
When cherry blossoms showered
Soft white ovals
On my palms,
On my hair,
On my lashes
And on my nosetips,
Feather-touching
With the flutter of gentle breeze
When I walked on cushioned softness
Under my feet, on the white carpet
Which smoothed the green spikes
Of the meadow grass.
Grief has a way of showing up
When least expected.
One may be
In the middle of muddled thoughts,
In the middle of celestial imagination,
In the middle of frenzied activity,
In the middle of mundane packing
Or in the middle of old missives.
Grief raises its head
Unprovoked, uninvited,
It’s tentacles gripping,
Giving intense pain
And vivid longings.
Grief colors my thoughts
In my daily routines;
It enthralls my spirit
And I am a captive, helpless.
I seek relief
From entrapped feelings
Of what has gone before
And what will never happen.
I search for alleviation
In fantasy and romance
And found faux panacea!
Love is a conundrum:
I pondered and ruminated
On a pensive afternoon
And plucked daisy petals to answer
“Loves me , loves me not” question.
The gentle balmy breeze
Of the mild midsummer
Snuggled close to me
And wafted soft breaths
Towards my cheeks,
Caressing tenderly,
The wisps and tendrils of hair
Touching and soothing,
Leaving lover’s kisses.
The warmth brushed my skin,
Comforting me, engulfing me-
And I felt love beside me.
Love and life shook hands
And squeezed the grape of ecstasy to a pulp.
The ecstasy passed in a twinkling,
But the purple stain is left behind,
The stain of memories that linger
To the distraction of mind and soul.
Thoughts unravel
In moments of loneliness
Or, is it in solitude?
Days have become droplets of time
Crashing into the ones before
With no thoughts given
To any meaning or certitude.
I breathe clouds,
Suspiration fogging life’s mirror.
Clarity has escaped
And there were no answers.
Is it a vacuum I exist in
Or, am I in the woods
On meandering paths
Blocked by brambles
Of tangled memories-
Some sweet, some bitter
And some bittersweet.
Where is the half-remembered youth
With its amorphous hopes
Which never furled
And withered on the wayside?
Dreams became fettered
And looked askance at love
That germinated
At odd moments
And flourished at random
To melt like feathery flakes
On nose to leave damp spots
To nurture in drought years.
In the twilight, the memories twinkled
But the smudged lines obliterated
Crystalline memories
And left one baffled,
Reaching for the tangible,
Something to hold,
Something to feel,
To sustain a life left rudderless.
Dawn shook up and woke
With the sweetness of birdsong;
Crystalline spray of cataracts
Stippled the verdure on the banks
Where river Malini sparkled in mischief
And washed the footpath
Of golden grains of sand
Mingling with polished pebbles.
Shakunthala yawned and stretched
And saw, with unexpected lassitude,
The morning sun peeking
Through the thatched eaves.
There was something in the air,
She mused without concern
And whiled away lazy moments
In anticipation
Of another humdrum day
In the hermitage.
At the threshold, she stood
At life’s ephemeral moment
*Like an unworn gem,
*Like an unkissed bloom,
*Like an unplucked new leaf,
*Like an unsung melody,
*And untasted honey.
Though nubile, innocent she was,
Incognizant of the wiles
And worldly wickedness,
Living sheltered among sages!
The breeze was beckoning
And friends were waiting;
Down the footpath, she walked
Towards Malini’s shore,
Her heels digging deep into the sand
Marking her trodden path.
Some tremor tugged at her conscious self,
But she turned without thought.
She lifted her foot into her palm
As if to check for some unknown thorn!
What devious moment prompted her
To look towards the cluster of saplings?
Watching her with intent gaze
Was a resplendent creature,
A predator, albeit a king.
Facing that knowing look
Was the undoing of innocence.
There was no thorn in the sole,
But the disturbing tremor continued.
Two pairs of eyes met
In time old mating
And Shakunthala was lost
To her hermitage irrevocably
When she drowned in the eyes
Of the worldly wise monarch.
* Kalidasa
