De-Feet


Peach nail paint, sometimes beige too,
the White of her feet
and the same peep-toe shoe

Somethings never change
Yet somethings do…

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A decade back perhaps
the day I first saw her
Breeze blowing away her silk scarf,
and her long skirt floating forever.

There was something about her smile
and those eyes which defied
a black and white frame,
the endless banter- I hardly listened,
It got me insane! Insane!!

Oh Boy! she made me coy!
As her voice into my ears drift,
my gaze stuck to her feet,
my eyes, I could hardly lift!

Those feet peeped through the patialas
They were careful of the grass they tread.
They wouldn’t kill those ants
or trample the flowering reed.

Those feet walked miles,
miles into my world of imagination.
Those feet walked miles,
miles away from my contemplation.

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Years later, I would hear the voice again.
Only, it’s no more a banter.
There’s still something about those eyes,
that makes one wonder…

“Do years get into a man,
or a man gets into the years gone by…?”
They fill each other so perfectly,
without asking ever a why!

Those feet peeped through
the pleats of her saree,
the peach nail paint
on the feet of the fairy.

And the brown peep-toe shoe
Somethings never change,
Yet somethings do.

A dragonfly struggled, stuck in the mud
those feet shuffled, careful not to hurt.

The mad crowd jostled by,
oblivious of the ground.
Those feet silently guarded
the little winged thing they’d found.

I bent down to pick it up
and saw her smile again.
She would never know,
those little things on her feet
have caused my heart so much pain…

Although knowing it couldn’t fly ever,
I set it free on a shrub.
Like 10 years back one day,
I had set free my love.

I asked, “Happy Now?”
those lips twinkled,
those eyes smiled.

The peach nail paint
and those toe rings few
the white of her feet
and the peep toe shoe

I wish I could ask,
“Why somethings never change,
Yet somethings do??”

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PS: In India, the Toe-rings are considered as a symbol of marriage. Most of the single women do not wear those.

): हँसी (:


लोग पूछते हैं मुझसे,
“तुम इतना कैसे मुस्कुरा पाती हो ?
तुम झूठी हो जो
खोखली हँसी हमें दिखती हो!”

परवाह मेरी मुहसे भी
ज़्यादा करते हैं!
लोग मेरी हँसी से
काफ़ी डरते हैं !!

परवाह उन्हें ये नहीं,
कि वो खुश क्यों नहीं ।
फ़िक्र बड़ी इस बात की,
कि मैं दुखी क्यों नहीं ?!?

खुश जब मैं काफ़ी होती हूँ ,
उस दोपहर फ़िर काफ़ी रोती हूँ।

नज़र जो लगती है मेरी हँसी को,
ज़माने की ।
क्या करूँ ! मेरी फ़ितरत में नहीं
हँसी छिपाने की ।

हँसती रहूंगी मैं ,
चाहे कितनी भी खोखली क्यों न हो।
दो ऑंसू ही टपक जाएं,
ज़ख्म कितनी भी गहरी क्यों न हो।

रोते हुए जो आई थी,
हँसते चेहरे दिख गए थे।
हँसते हुए जो जाऊँगी,
दुनिया रोती रह जाएगी …

शायद। …. शायद ?

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Pity!


Today she met with an accident,
As she lay dying,
people passed by her.
deciding to plunder even her mortal remains.

Robbing her of her torn robes,
and her trinkets- one after the other.
lynching her layer by layer,
a sight to shudder!

Tears oozed through her bruises,
blood gushed down her eyes…
As the road moved on,
oblivious to her cries.

Vehicles blamed her for the traffic jam,
people didn’t bother to pretend humane.

And she lay lifeless, wincing,
in excruciating pain,
shriveling up lonely
in the crowded lane…

No FIR was filed, no help offered,
no sympathy was shown, none bothered.

As she breathed her last that day,
she pleaded to God- her one last say,
“Lord! sprinkle some humanity to the humans,
your compassionate creation, the genius ones!!”

Well,
she wouldn’t ride cars,
nor would she own homes,
But wouldn’t she own her own breath?

Shouldn’t she have the right to live?
Even if she isn’t the “fine human”.

Yes, what if she’s a Tree?
The Peepul or the People-
Today, I don’t know whom to pity!!

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PS:

Once, I sat through a traffic jam in a road blocked by a fallen tree. It was a beautiful Peepul tree that we claimed had encroached unto our road. It was chopped off that day and lay there in the middle of the road, bringing the traffic to a halt. It was huge and people struggled to move it out of the way. They decided to rip it apart branch by branch, to clear it out easily.

They blamed it for the traffic jam it had caused- as if dying such cruel death, lynched layer by layer- was its own choice!

It was such a painful sight. And all I could do was write poetry…

The Peepul or the People- Truly, I don’t know whom to pity!!

 

 

~Nature~


Nature is a poem minus words,
a thousand chosen couplets,
from the dreams of the Gods.

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Diamond dew, on flowers frail,
silver storms at the ocean’s tail.

Butterflies in flight,
and their shadows on the soil.
Sparrows snuggling,
after a days toil.

A leaf dancing solo
through the summer air,
from the eerie eucalyptus
on the laterite chair.

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Waters, seemingly flowing
aimlessly to the world’s eyes.
Yet reaching their own predetermined goal,
breaking away from their Earthly ties.

beetles and bees busy preparing,
for the blank white winter’s cold.
Grasses growing little twigs above,
but strong roots beneath, deepening their hold.

saplings tender, so full of life,
peeping from nowhere,
from lifeless lands, barren, bare!

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Clouds or cotton balls?
In skies jungle,
the foxes fumble
and the Lion mauls…

The Touch me not, shying away..
like from a lover’s touch
on an unexpected day.

Gulmohur red and gold as a bride,
Silver firs talking to the clouds with pride.
“You may shine silver.
But more Silver I do hide”

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All comes and all but goes,
where each being with harmony grows.
lives and believes and departs one day,
leaving behind withered and gray.
to rot beneath this earthen pot.
in a form that it was not.

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Majestic mountains might seem mini.
Even tiny Ants have duties many.
Big and small.
Nature has them all.

Each to teach a lessons few,
to rediscover life,
one thought one knew!

O Nature!
No poet’s pen can pen down your beauty,
No painter’s brush paint your bounty,
No photographers’ frame can capture your colour.
No philosopher’s thoughts testify your valour.
No princes’ treasure can buy your riches ,
No prophet’s wisdom preach what Nature teaches.

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O Nature!!
Invisible you are in a drop,
and anonymous the drop in the sea.
Your Majesty! I could never comprehend thee!

No Hymns hummed for this hero.
No Songs sung for this soul,
You cannot relish it in plucked fragments,
you ought to rejoice it in whole.

O Nature!
The mysterious teacher!!

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PS:
I am in love with my hometown’s serenity, its solitude. Sunabeda is the Mountain’s daughter, brought up by soothing sunshine, reprimanded by torrential rains, pacified by winter fogs, … It has a poem scripted on each leaf, flower and cloud. It has magic in its breath that makes each one a poet. And I am no exception!

Meri Mussoorie!


mts
I had a Dream.
A ‘little-Big’ dream
which I wondered, Why had I ever seen?!

The dream was distant,
almost impossible to achieve.
And that was why I wanted to own it,
surrender all I could ever give.

The jolly days of youth,
the warmth of family,
the companionship of friends,
the fashion, the fervour and the trends.

I would choose solitary confinement,
and sleep on a bed of books.
Pages and pages would fly in my dreams,
Dates, people, places- uttered in silent screams.

I would look into the mirror,
and graying eyes would stare.
few strands fall on the floor,
a bald patch without hair.

Mortal fear gripped me by.
My dream could be stolen,
if I didn’t hide it high.

Soon!
I hid my dream under the clouds,
and hid the clouds in the sky,
then hid the sky above a Hill,
and to hide more had patience still.

So, I hid the Hills in the Mists of Mussoorie,
and hid Mussoorie in the safest of safes.

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This safe was my soul,
to breach it, the world had to take me whole.
Dig my grave and bury me in,
But I would still have my Mussoorie within.

After failing to climb the Hill,
to see the sky and cuddle the clouds-
I had immense doubts,
on self, on Destiny, on God.

But My Dream was so endearing,
That I started again enduring-
Pain, soul shearing pain.

Outcast by the world,
mocked by friends…
If sorrows have beginnings,
they also must have ends.

They mock and they will mock.
But I must meanwhile unlock-
the courage to Dream again.

Thought then,
I have hid my dream
in the mists of Mussoorie.
Someday I would go there,
although tired, beaten and weary.

And today..
The clouds have conspired to bring me here.
I have met my dream,
A dream so dear.

LBSNAA2

PS: 4th July, 2015. I was born again.
12th June, 2014. I had died a million deaths in one go.I had lost the cutoff by a single mark. I couldn’t decide whether or not to cry. The fact that I was so close, yet so far away…
The inertia of my innocent tears… They flowed while I laughed hard. They stopped at the back of my eyes, while I cried, wailing like a child. Like me, they were unsure how to act upon God’s Design.

After the heart break, I had never imagined I could ever post this piece. I had written it in 2012 and waited each single day, to find a reason to post it… .

That day, in the middle of midnight I wrote “The Loser”... https://resonner.wordpress.com/2014/06/12/the-loser/
” Who decides who is the loser?
Who decides whether there ever was anything to lose?
Yes the Loser, who will never lose again…”

Today,The Loser has totally Lost it!
The Loser has lost it all-
her anguish, her doubts, her self!!

Yes the Loser, who will never lose again- her Faith🙂