Mussoorie Melancholy


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A melancholy tune ,
Made me peep through the window.
Perched atop the Rhododendron,
Was a Lark blue and yellow

She seemed to lament
that her nest was robbed by the tree.
While the tree lamented
its own misery…

Branches barren, leaves gone.
For reasons only man has known.

It stared at the hillocks nearby,
All his friends were lumbered,
As he watched them die.

So, it told the lark to
celebrate the survivors fate..
Sing through the clouds
for his departed mate.

And together they looked on.
The hills bleak & forlorn,
Sang the melancholy tune.
While, Man afar lumbered his fortune.

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माफ़ी ~ Forgiveness


सरे आम जो बदनाम करते हो,
फ़िर माफ़ी क्यों छिपकर मांगते हो?
जाने ऐसी कौनसी ,
किससे छिपाने वाली बात हो गयी ?

इतनी बेदर्दी से जो दर्द दिया,
मेरी नफ़रत भी तुमसे खफ़ा हो गयी .

अब रूठी तो नहीं हूँ, ये पूछते हो.
क्यों तुमसे रूठूँ, ये सोचते हो.
हाँ. जब अनजाने थे, तो बात अलग थी.
अब तो जान बूझ कर बेगाने हुए.

तुमसे भला अब क्या शिक़वा  गिला,
वो तो तब था, जब तुम अपने थे.

वो स्नेह पर जो कीचड की छीटें पड़ीं,
मेरी आँखों से टपक कर सारी धुल गयीं .

बेदाग़ है अब जो दामन तुम्हारा,
तुम मेरी परवाह न करो.
मेरी माफ़ी बेहिसाब है.

ख़ुले आम ही नफ़रत कर लेते,
क्यों छिप कर ये वार किया?
वैसे भी ! मेरी सज़ा से कब तुम डरे हो !
जो अपनी नफ़रत जताने में इतना वक़्त लिया !

जाने ऐसी कौनसी
किससे छिपाने वाली बात हो गयी.
इतनी बेदर्दी से जो दर्द दिया,
मेरी नफ़रत भी तुमसे खफ़ा हो गयी…

 

My first Letter


Sometimes in Life, gratitude makes us happier than gifts. Sometimes Gratitude is the best gift. Thank you !

Inguz

Dear Pamela madam,

I live in Assam. I am 19 and have been studying engineering for 2 years in July.As English is not my first language. I’m not a frequent reader of neither books nor blogs as a result, you can see my bad vocabulary here. so I took a resolution to improve my English and started reading them this Jan(2017). I read “https://resonner.wordpress.com/2016/06/04/pity/

View original post 202 more words

~Bou~


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The woman who pretends to read the English paper, just to be clicked wise!

It has been exactly an year without you. I cannot say that I miss you, I feel your absence and there are tears in my eyes.Yet there is no void without you, somehow you refuse to go and stay put in our lives. And weirdly cruel it might sound to you out there, but each time I remember you, I just cant stop laughing at the silly,funny and annoying acts that you merrily did. I am imagining you in that Universe where you are stealing those white stars thinking that they are Milky Bar chocolates. You were a sweet old nasty rebel who lived the world the way she wanted to.

Not even a day passes without thinking of you atleast once before I sleep. And honestly when I had outgrown your lap, I hadn’t found time enough to remember you so often.  Now that you are unreachable, your penguin walk comes strutting before me- always, all ways and there is no escape.

Bou is my Bou. She wasn’t the grandmaa a Jeje Maa is supposed to be. She was the Mummy, the friend, the teacher, the Cartoon Network, the enemy, the Punching Bag, the Family Clown, the all… while I was talking those first steps in my life.

I distinctly remember how she would enjoy the tough times she had while handling the unruly me, while Mummy was away doing her Post Graduation. She would oil my hair and I would punch her for damaging my hair style and later make her shampoo it. I was in Kindergarten and none less than a hyper-melodramatic moronic kid. I would forget my homework at home and she would nervously run to school, carrying all my notebooks, not knowing which one could be the forgotten homework copy for which I could be punished. Then she bribed my Ayaas there for sneaking that notebook to me.

She would make tiny clay utensils for me to play kitchen-kitchen. She would drag me to the gents barber shop to chop off my  bird nest like hair, lest I wailed to have the Madhuri Dixit hair do for school. No hair= No care! She would fight with all the people who picked up fights with me. She would tell me endless stories until I finished my  food or fell asleep. Now, she has gone to sleep forever.

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Bou, Mommy and Me.

Bou! We would be annoyed at your extraordinary skills of stealing anything sugary and forbidden. We would laugh at your never ending desires to dress up like a 20ish bride. You never failed to sneak into my cosmetics and consume the entire bottle of perfume, lotion , nailpolish , despite having your own. You always thought mine was better- you out-rightly naughty woman! And of course pluck those exotic roses from the garden in the name of offering them for Puja and then they would pompously sit on Goddess Lalita’s Bun (Head+ Pitch Black Tassil – Hair) 😛

We would frown at your never ending chatter about all the irrelevant stuff in the world, while you watched the repeat telecast of a previously watched episode of a mindless soap and took pride in predicting the next scene before it came. When you were asked relevant questions about the ‘n’ number of mischiefs you had done throughout the day and the crate of ripe mangoes was found empty- you knew where to divert the attention and feign innocence. When you were silent, your Ludo dice would endlessly clang in its tiny box. You would play Ludo by running all the 4 colours yourself and being your own opponent. You never trusted our ability to be a player of your match and never were you ashamed of cheating to win. You crooked woman! I often wonder, if you took revenge on us for raising all the nasty kids in the family for 2 generations,and hence suitably being a bounty combo of All-in-one-Oldie!

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She was the Fuljhari, the Diwali Dhamaka!

I had so many dreams of getting you so many things with my first salary, making you proud by becoming someone someday. When I think I reasonably became one, I didn’t find you much proud. I think, you were always infinitely proud of me irrespective of how big I was in years, or seemed to be by ‘big’ accomplishments. You were a merry and content lot- always. I thought of buying you more of those fancy bangles that I got for you always… and those silver payals, you were unhappy that they didn’t make much sound like that of a bride! My Bangles , my payals were with you till your last. I wish I was there too.

I regret that I couldn’t buy you the promised new Ludo Set, couldn’t play Ludo with you one more time- where no matter what , You always won. I never can fight with you again, over the loud volume of the TV, over the spilled nail-paint bottle, over eavesdropping on my telephone conversations with my friends…

You have never complained of less attention, of being old, of being made fun of, of being scolded or of being in pain- even while you writhed in that heart attack.You had come to this world, a wailing infant. You lost your mother before you could understand what a mother was. But you never failed to be the best Mother for the kids and kids of the kids… and you dreamt of raising my kids as well!  You loved us all infinitely, nurtured the child in me immeasurably. But when you turned a child, I got impatient and fought with you. I can never forgive myself all life through, although I am still in doubt whether you picked up those fights intentionally and actually enjoyed them.

You were a messy, illiterate, unsophisticated, funny lady. You Bou! But your spirit, uncomplaining attitude, never ending cheerfulness, infinite ability to endure pain, never getting mad at us for all the jeering- I wonder whether my education could ever teach me that.

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You, who claimed to be my husband’s second bride.

 

I want to cry out aloud today, because you are gone. But when I remember you, countless happy memories dance before my eyes and your silly smile makes me smile too. I wonder if I will ever be able to leave the world with as much grace as you. I still can’t remember the last time I saw you hurt, sad or in tears. How could nothing make you sad Bou !?!

 

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4 Generations in a frame. We cant miss her. She is unmissable.

 

“When Children are small- they talk and you laugh.
When Children grow big- you talk and they laugh.”

I wish I hadn’t laughed, I wish I had been more patient. I wish I had played Ludo with you one more time. I wish I had let you pluck all those yellow roses, Oh my Lalita Devi! I wish I had watched TV aloud with you- even the 6th repeat telecast. I wish I could talk and I wish I could laugh on you, one more time…

Bou, today you smile in a garlanded portrait in my Puja room…that serious looking, somber image doesn’t suit you well. It makes me nervous… You better become that goofy, whacky woman who cant live one day in her life without annoying people or making them laugh…

Bou. I hadn’t really realized how much I have loved you all my life…

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You are the Love of our Life.

 

Bou! You are and always shall be picturesque, the brightest colour of our life’s portrait.

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कुछ ज़्यादा ही !


कुछ ज़्यादा ही दे दिया.
बिन मांगे, बिन कहे
कुछ ज़्यादा ही जुड़ लिया

अब फिर गुस्सा सा आता है,
कि तुमको इसकी कद्र नहीं,
क्या पता शायद
इसकी ख़बर ही नहीँ.

बिन माँगे न सही,
ज़रा पुछा हुआ सा,
मेरे प्यार का हिस्सा तो मिले,
फिर कैसे न रखूँ मैं,
ये ज़रा से शिकवे गिले !

जो तुम्हारा था सब,
उसे भी अपना कर बैठ गयी.
अब तुम जो माँग रहे हो वापिस ,
क्या कहूँ! उसे कहाँ कहाँ समेट गयी !

और जो मेरा था,
वो भी तो दे दिया.
बिन मांगे तुमने,
मेरा सब कुछ तोह ले लिया!

अब क्या लिया मुझसे,
खबर नहीं जो तुम्हे इसकी,
वापिस क्या माँगू तुमसे उन चीज़ों को,
मोल भाव ही नहीं जिसकी.

बेफ़िक्र, बेज़िक्र- अब तुम जो चल दिए.
गुस्सा अब खुद पर आता है.
मैंने क्यों तुमसे वह वादे निभाए,
जो शायद तुमने कभी नहीं किये.
कमीज़ के बटन की तरह
तुम टूट कर जो आज़ाद हुए,
न जाने, कुछ धागे मुझपर
अब भी अड़कर रह गए !

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PS: Trying my hand on Hindi again. An ode to all those who silently give and silently expect the love in return as well. After all it is called ‘Being Human’ whose love is often Unrequited Love 🙂