Ramblings of Mind-5

We are all, but a congealed mass of memories.The memories which are ashes of the moments, burnt in the hearth of life, fanned by each breath we take to survive. And the irony is that these very breaths cut short the thread of life they help exist. Yet sometimes the warmth remains inside, only to be rekindled with fond reminiscences of the childhood and youth.

                                                         Most times in our lives there are two things that dictate everything else; chances and choices. At each new chance an set of choices is present and each choice made in turn, creates new sets of chances. More often than not though we end up hurting ourselves and then sit back and remorse haunts us. The heart knows the right from wrong , yet the passions and emotions reign supreme.

                 Follies and fallacies, joys and laughter, and a thousand such pairs, all mixed in the same bittersweet brew. We sip a draught, and the mouth is bitter. Yet we drink, in the hope of sweetness. And when there comes a sweet taste, we drink greedily for more, knowing well that an ashen taste awaits, lurking somewhere. It is a concoction of smiles and tears and sweat and blood of our own heart. We keep drinking of this even though we don't want to. "There is no other way to live," say all.

                    Still in everyone's life, there comes a time when we realize that putting away the cup away will certainly make you more thirsty. And then it will lead you in search for a drink, to save your life. This time however, you shall drink from the fountain of youth the source of life shall moisten your lips and quench the burning in your parched throat. Don't you give up your journe before that my friend.

                      And even if you die in search of the fountain, you shall know, in the end that the pool of nectar was within you; all the time.

Baarish, Jungle aur main

ठंडी सर्द हवा के झोंकें, जिनसे

दरख़्त की टहनियों पे बलखाता ,

रेशम के तारों से जैसे बुना ,

इक प्यारा सा जाला मकड़ी  का |

बारिश की कुछ  नन्हीं सी बूँदें ,

फंसी जिनमें ओस के जैसी,

डूबते सूरज की किरणें पकड़ सुनहली हो चली हैं,

और लहराती हैं झकोरों की ताल पे |

धुला धुला सा वन सुंदरी  का आँचल,

सब्ज पत्तों और चमकीले फूलों की गोट वाला,

बादलों से चाँद झाँकता है चोरी चोरी,

कान्हा ज्यूँ ताक रहा हो नहाती गोपियों को |

अलबेले, मस्ताने झींगुरों की एक गवैया टोली ,

ताल मिलाती झूमते टर्राते मेंढकों से आज |

बादलों की काली छतरी फट गयी है,

और बरसात की झड़ी में भीगते हैं सब जंगल वाले  |

मैं मुसाफिर एक अकेला, यायावर सा,

भटक रहा जीवन के घने से वन में,

पहुँच गया यहाँ इन घुमक्कड़ बादलों के संग,

इस जंगल में, बिन बुलाये मेहमाँ की तरह |

यादों का सावन जैसे बरस रहा हो

आँखों से मेरी भी एक नमकीन सी बरसात होती है ,

और बह जाती है जमीं पर, किसी दलदल में  खो जाने को |

यूँ रात भी गहरी सी हो चली है , शायद घर मुझे बुला रहा है |

A walk in the woods, an autumn evening

A walk in the woods, quiet and forsaken,
As the season of autumn just sets in.
Trees are a thousand pillars, holding the skies aloft,
And the falling leaves trace a road, paved with gold.


A gentle cool breeze, accompanies me on the stroll,
She smells of earth and burnt wood in hearths.
The sun softly sinks away from the zenith,
And the blue sky is a pastel of orange and pink.


The merry brook plays a rippling lyre, on the stones
And the roosting birds o'erhead complete the orchestra.
It is the music arcane, a song of the forest's soul,
So old and yet so fresh; my heart's lost in a trance.


Am all alone by myself, perhaps the mirage of tranquility smiles,
As the twilight fades into a starry night; heaven a mirror of fireflies.
The silent night seduces me; an enchantress' temptations.
Far somewhere, on the edge of these treacherous illusions,
A pair of hazel eyes search for me anxiously and wait.


A sirens' song is all this scenery, I know,
Yet I shall be drawn to it again tomorrow.
Now, from this land of fantasy, I take a flight,
Go home, have supper and to kiss my daughter a good night.

SPRING

Broken wings; the butterfly cried,

The spring has forsaken her.

Soft, powdered snow clings to the earth,

Far away is yet the golden chariot of summer.

A solitary Robin waits everyday, for the day,

Its song shall echo in the valley of flowers.

Naked, expectant tender stems, bear the long pains

For the moments they shall deliver the joy.

Hark! The cuckoo has broken her silence,

A breeze of melody fills every breath with music.

Mango trees laden with humming honey bees,

The sonnets of the season sound so sweet !

Dreamy days are filled with heavenly stupor

And the warm nights heady with aroma; of wild green apples!

The halcyon has finally descended on earth,

Her raiment of white all draped in the silken rainbow.

A game of warmth and aromas; world whirls and swirls,

Another wink of time and the circle of life rotates once more.

The butterfly? Her wings are all jewels now…..

Gunjan (25/12/09)