BackClock

The butterfly gave her colors away,

And the bee forsake their sting 

the breeze lifted the dunes,

and the lyrics set out to find their tunes.

Roses drained their colors,

And rainbows went around the world 

The thorns blended into the stems so much

For that last glance and that final touch.

The gypsies wandered the places unfound,

And the nomads prayed in their deserts,

For her to turn back, that magical sway

The Souks gave their gold away.

Yet she hid quietly in her play,

Not to be found and brought to the ground,

And those endless fields of nameless lives,

Lay there silently watching her tomb survive.

Gyanban Thoughts:  Few lines dedicated to the victims of the recent terror attacks in France.God bless their families. We grieve with them.

Faded

Are you going to the memory lane?

Lost corners and aimless signs

Remember who you left behind

and what you carried along?

That lonely coffee table

and rains trickling through the doors,

The yearning fireplace

and those waiting pages.

Those flowing white seamless shirts 

and oh those careless buttons,

Swinging hair and quivering lips

Unread feelings wrote new memories.

Between shores and the sea

Pebbles  lost in time

Roll back their untold stories,

And sands sing to the winds.

Those unending stairs inching to your heart,

Drawn curtains swaying for a touch

Sheets wrapping your fears

and pillows that wiped your tears.

That dawn of hope 

and the pain of a waiting dusk

Remember who you left behind

and what you carried along?

Gyanban Thoughts : The more we move forward the more we leave behind, only to sit back and cherish some day, one day.

Somewhere, My love.

Did you get the tickets?

Those tickets to anywhere

Maybe we can fly together

Make that somewhere our home.

I don’t know where to start,

Maybe we could create something new,

I’ve left behind the past,

Our somewhere is just there.

Did you get the tickets?

Those tickets to anywhere

I saved some money for you,

We could start over new.

Managed to pack some food,

Fly away far,it will last.

You and I can both work somewhere 

See what it means to be living

more than dying everyday

Did you get the tickets?

Those tickets to anywhere

Its getting late and we don’t want to miss.

I’ve longed for this day forever now.

We’ve got to leave tonight or die this way

I can see the fireflies in the forest

as the City lights fade away,

And I want to belong somewhere

and believe once more.

Did you get the tickets?

Those tickets to anywhere

Only the window lay open in hope.

Its time and you never came.

Silently my somewhere is slipping away

And your absence screams from far

Did you love me any way?

Or just buy one ticket to go away.

Gyanban Thoughts : Just a few lines drifted in while I was listening to Fast Car.

Zingara

Gathered under the crescent moon,

Waiting for her to come back soon,

A withering look scratching traces.

Flickering candles light their faces.

Music keeps the jungle humming,

Broken tides keep on coming

Cries a woman under the hood

Time never cared or understood.

The stories are woven from molten gold,

As fortunes made and dream are sold

Yet the magic lies sparsely strewn

Find the path or fade away soon.

Gyanban Thoughts :  just a few lines about a female gypsy and her wandering mind and the longing soul.The journey she travels and the life she marvels ,the rocks she stumbles and the feelings that crumble....

Guddu's Story

The hills have eyes.

Its true. I found out that night while walking uphill.

The overnight snow had made the walking path quite   vulnerable. The sharp edges of broken pebbles and rock      chips mixed with mud and snow made for  a walkers            nightmare. Usually,I walked six to eight times everyday quite comfortably.Though towards the end of the day it would get quite tough,but I would still make it to the top.I was not alone.There were others walking as well,and it always gave me support and    encouragement.

I never could understand why we needed to carry the load everyday? They came in all shapes and sizes, some had really bad odor and some loads were simply back breaking.I  tried my best to keep going but every now and then I would stop to take a breather.My master would get wild at me.He whipped me,abused me and kicked between my legs.It hurt. My neck bled when my master clenched his fist.

It was just after sunset and there was no moon in sight.My master never came to see me as he would usually do every night. He would never miss giving me food even if we had a fight early in the day. I was worried for my master today.
I didn’t worry about the stiff winter chill across my face and snowflakes that dotted the skyline. The place soon emptied and I was alone standing under a thick cloud cover and snow fall. I stood at the foot of those hills watched others go by as usual.As it grew colder and windier,at first I hesitated to move from my fixed place, but then I ventured to a nearby shed.

Its then I saw something quite extraordinary. A rock tumbled from the top of the hill and stopped in front of me.It was not an ordinary rock.It had a flat top,as if someone had just sliced the uneven part on top and the bottom firmly gripped into the ground.

Before I could unravel the flat rock mystery,another identical rock came tumbling down. And within minutes a barrage of rocks came rolling down. Was it an earthquake? I don’t know.It was a bit confusing and scary considering that there was no sound in the vicinity.
There was snow everywhere,except on those rocks. As I lifted my eyes,I could see the rocks had formed a path leading on to the hills.I was inexplicably drawn out of my shed and stepped on top of the first rock. Was it trying to show me a way? I set foot on the second rock out of unstoppable curiosity and before I could bat an eyelid,I was walking on top of the rocks at a brisk pace.

This was the same difficult hill I would walk up and down everyday, but today it all          seemed so unfamiliar.For a minute I did  think all of this was a dream, but it wasn’t, even after I had shaken my head three times!
At precisely the two hundred and thirtieth step ,it became clear to me.I saw a red stain on the white snow.It was master.He lay there helpless,hope less,motionless ,and perhaps lifeless.He had been hit by a boulder.

I did consider, albeit quite momentarily, but certainly, leaving him right there and walking back,but I didn’t.I stopped to think.I took a moment to recount my journey on the hill. The steepness never tired me, the mud and snow didn’t slow me,the rock chips didn’t hurt me and moreover,I was not tired anymore either. I managed to wake up my master, and all he said was 'Guddu I knew you would come', I nodded and brought him back to  town.

The hills have eyes I concluded.

Gyanban Thoughts : The story is a narration by a young pony.The inspiration for this fairytale came from a little pony called Guddu,I saw in Kufri. The locals used their mules and ponies to carry people up the hill and back for money. The irony was that neither was the money enough for the master to feed himself and his horses nor was it easy on the pony to carry overweight people up the steep hill.

As a result the masters would whip,kick and shout to keep the ponies moving. The quicker they finished the ride the better chance to earn more money,while the tourists had the   time of their lives.

I realised somebody's joy, was someones pain.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Wind Beneath My Wings - IV

Read part I

Read part II

Read part III

Time was running away from him, and he had to catch it before it was too late. After all he did not come all this way to go back empty handed. The task at hand was rather bizarre – he had to make a girl fall in love with a rank stranger ,like him, before it was 10:10PM that day.To be fair he did not know about this fine print until much later in the day.

Love was perhaps the last thing on her mind, much like the last compartment on that train, or maybe that was just a co-incidence I noted. But something had to be done, and done now ,lest this time might never come back again.

As the train moved, he thought about it for a moment, reassessed his credentials in his mind. He came from a well-to-do family, was well educated and should I say, well travelled. He was family oriented and women found him attractive…or so his father told him ever since his mother had passed away when he was a child. He dressed well and had good manners as a part of his family tradition. So what more could a woman like Rosalyn want or ask?

But he was in for a surprise.

The train had now picked up speed, he glancing over his watch, and decided to make the first move. He went and sat in front of her in the opposite seat. She briefly looked at him and then looked away nonchalantly. His heartbeats grew louder. He managed to gather some courage and blurt out -

‘Errm excuse me, ma’am please don’t misunderstand, but I –I do think we need to talk’.

She jerked back with a sharp look, and stared right into my eyes. It paused his world for a few moments. Everything around him had come alive. It made him wonder how beauty could be so illuminating, glowing, even the glaring lights in the compartment wondered in amazement. The fans thought of giving an extra effort so that those silken locks could swing rhythmically to the beat of the wheels.

The mute photograph beside the door pined for just one glance, while the handle bar was perhaps the most fortunate to have been the only one in touch with her. The doors tried looking away, a case of sour grapes perhaps, but couldn’t help but rattle and make a noise expressing their frustration.

As for the rest of the heartbeats in the compartment, sleep had cloaked their sights, and such ignorance was bliss for him. His heart  pounded, sulked and almost jumped out. While the  mind fought a tough battle to keep it from leaping out. The fragrance from her body surrounded him, words struggled to find a structure, pattern or meaning, and thoughts ran like wild horses. A few strands of hair arched over her forehead and danced in front of  tender eyelashes, which had their own story to tell.

The shy lips were ever so slightly parted, perhaps feeling uncomfortable from the obvious gaze, they moved in perfect harmony swaying to the perfect symphony created by the master Himself.

The incisive right canine bit them into reality. The dangling pendant on her lovely neck, watched all those unleashed imaginations passing by, guessing what lay beneath. The light pink handkerchief clutched in her perfectly conical palms, felt warm and secured, it bore the imprints of those tender lips.

The rogue overhead speaker system jolted him out of his stupor, as he realized those moments what seemed like an eternity, were just a few seconds old. She was looking at him intently while his diluted eyeballs came back to focus on reality.

‘You see this might seem odd to you, but you and I need to talk about history –  a past from a long time ago. Well we actually know each other from a long time. He paused and then said -

 ‘And I have been waiting for the last four years.’

A barrage of questions followed.

‘Four years? You know life is good – get one for yourself’.

‘Why me? Why now ? And who are you?’

‘Uh-umm I am …’ he hesitated not because he had forgotten his name, but because his mouth refused to listen to his mind – it was too busy gaping at her. Before he could go on further, she interjected.

‘Ah yes, I know, you are Mr. Romeo and I am Miss.Juliet’ she snapped sarcastically.

He was dumbstruck for a moment. He had to do something to grab her attention and make her believe his story. Though to be fair it was just the beginning, she had no clue about who he was or where he came from.

His life was perhaps near perfect. And there lies the catch. Near perfect and being perfect, has perhaps the deepest pitfall. He should’ve known, but he didn’t see it then. They say love is blind, and he was perhaps going to become the leading example of that expression.

But before we move on to what happened in the train that night, I need to tell you a little bit about the boy.

Gyanban Thoughts - Part  V  has a new dimension coming up.

Bearer

They came in a hurry

With their minds blurry

They raged and cried

Some tears dried.

They came happy sad or frayed,

Romantic or hearbroken everyday,

Thoughts screaming out loud,

Some down but not out.

I travelled with their lives

Everyday noons or nights,

They told me their stories,

Some ambitions,wishesh or glories.

I smiled and help them move on

Crossed the crossings forlorn,

Cushioned them on the bends

Some twists and some turns.

Today I stand alone as a former,

Quietly ensconced in a dark corner

Waiting for the grinder

A gruelling end,and a gentle reminder

Life is just like a passenger…

Gyanban Thoughts – this poem is written from the point of view of a Taxi.The title Bearer is aptly fit the sentiment of the poem.So many stories unfold in his daily life, so many travellers join him in the brief journey,yet no one ever told his story.No one ever cared what happened to him? Where was the time or need ? They were there everytime we needed them,we travelled and reached our destinations time and gain.But did you stop and care of what happened to them ? Or did you rationalise it out of your lives ? Quite similar to our lives isnt't it? How we forget those people who took us to our destinations...

Life is just like a passenger,always  looking forward to the next destination but seldom realising how important the journey was...

Scarlett

A dark clouded dream on a fiery night
Teases the crescent moon
A veiled face hides behind the candle light
She lay still in the lovers coccoon.

They're walking in circles
Their lamps mask their faces
A cold wind caresses

The lashes of silken traces.

The smoke swirls up and then it dies

The crackling wood burns as it flies,

Shadows of the night are dancing,

Eyes meet eyes piercing.

Would you like my heart?
Would you like my touch?
A silent moon rolls with the lonely teardrop,

A waiting heart beats after a stop.

New lives are woven every night,
And fortunes kindle in the silver light
The tryst of the scarlett robe,

A pregnant truth flickers as a ray of hope...

Gyanban thoughts - Gypsies travel from one life to another, one world to another, carrying their love,pain or sorrow udner the hood of resilience.No one know where they came from or where are headed to,they just move on. I think we are all moving like them,from event to event, chasing the unrelenting final destination,and somewhere we find it will come to us in all it s glory and beauty.

image courtesy:desktopnexus.com

Crushed

As the cheerful rain drops,

the malaise carriage rocks,

lifless wires and listless trees ,

rush by, ignoring the breeze.

The sea of people rocking rythmically,

blithe spirits float deliriously,

clasped arms and hooked fingers,

cold familiarty meets warm strangers.

A heaving heart, teases her shoulders,

flying locks caress like feathers,

the teasing nape, steals a gaze,

mind is clear ,yet the heart in haze.

The first brush,the hot flush,

the restraining pressure crush,

bodies attract and distract at every jerk,

at diverse destinies and common forks.

Her scents enslave,capture senses

the hands quiver , fist clenches,

the nervous smile,corner of the eye,

similar sight, and the nomadic rye.

As the end nears,one touch yearns,

last station at the life junction, turns,

one isolated minute begs the mind,

time ticks yet eyes go blind,

some lost moments and some love left behind...

Gyanban Thoughts - These lines are about Crushes.The title is especially interesting because it has multiple applications within the verses - it exists in the mind,in the body, and even the metaphysical layer.It is contradticting , it is reassuring, it is reaffirming, it is revoking, it is challenging, it is simply following.

It's about two strangers,who meet in a local train,how intense can emotions flow even in the most improbable situations and scenarios.Those frozen moments in time are inexplicable,and leave a lasting memory.They become a part of our nostalgia vocabulary.

Since our realities are always different, some people always travel back into the past and relive those journey's, travel in time again and again..each journey leaves it's indeliible footprint as we keep walking in life....

image courtesy : desktopnexus.com

Clarity

Why don’t these roads take me home?

Why doesn’t the glass quench my thirst?

Why doesn’t the sky soar so high anymore?

Why doesn’t the water run so deep?

Why does the view look forlorn?

Why does the touch talk no more?

Why do pains hurt no more?

Why do rains seem so dry ?

Why should clouds take shape?

Why would the mountains stand tall?

Why wouldn’t tears fill up the sky?

Why shouldn’t they crumble and fall?

Why does it feel crowded walking alone?

Why do the walls stare emptily?

Why does the window show sorrow?

Why does the breeze miss the trees?

Why does the bright yellow seem so grey?

Why do the colors fade?

Why cant we design our fate?

Why don’t we walk through that gate?

Gyanban Thoughts - Sometimes in life there are so many questions that one looks for some clarity of thought to take or make a decision.However, in the process of finding clarity one lands up into many more questions.To make things more vulnerable, these questions manifest only in one point of time -not always.Therefore, it s tough to find out what to base your answers and or actions on ? Maybe you've just got to go with the flow...who knows...

Written for Writers Island.

image courtesy :desktopnexus.com

Milestones - 6

Milestone - 7

Don Dasgupta was a well travelled man, best of places, best of hotels, best of airplanes, but this journey on foot surpassed all his previous endeavors.

It was to be his atonement.

He walked slowly, stopping occasionally; the weight of the bag pack was becoming heavier. His legs were cramping up a bit.He couldn’t take the weight any longer and twisted his ankle while crossing an ugly pothole in an otherwise flawless road.

The pain was unbearable. As he sat by the road side, unable to move ahead he broke down physically.

Mentally he had broken down much before.

‘why me?’ Why? – what have I done to deserve this?’

'Yes I am not perfect. But then who is? Are You ?' he said looking skywards.

‘If you only wanted peace and happiness on this earth why did you create evil in the first place?’

‘if you wanted love why create hate?’

‘why offer a choice of good and bad…and why not good and better?’

‘why even get into a comparison?’

And then when You did create all this comparison why punish the ones who make the other choice?

‘Why is it called a wrong choice in the first place?’

‘isnt someone’s truth always going to be someone’s lie ?’

‘what then is the ultimate truth ? the undeniable the uncontestable truth?’

‘what do we follow?’ Who do we follow and why do we follow?’

‘Or maybe you couldn’t do anything about evil.’

Maybe You are not all that powerful after all ?

Maybe we’re all fools…wishing and hoping for you to show up one day someday…’

Maybe You don’t exist at all.

Don Dasupta was on the verge of a complete break down…of the mind body and spirit.

He sat their lonely in the middle of nature with the hills, trees, roads and some clouds. They tried to say something to him all along the way…but he did not listen. They even tried to console him…but he was hurt. He buried his face in his knees and closed his eyes….

Just when hope lost itself to the winds,

Just when tears dried up in the clouds,

Just when hurt cloaked the slopes,

Just when pain hardened the pebbles,

Just when sorrow felled the trees,

Just when emotions choked the thunder,

Just then….she arrived.

Time had stopped for a moment.

Vulnerable eyes for love to look, luminous skin of divine origin, hair left for the breeze to follow, arched eyebrows bridged the sorrows, and a dimpled chin with lop sided grin, floated in from the sky.

The sun delayed it’s set, the moon peaked in early, the clouds fought to get glimpse, the trees swayed and the naughty leaves broke away, the pebbles rolled closer, the ground became softer, water fell slower, and the air cloaked her aura.

Words escaped Don. Expressions fought a contradictory battle. Don had no idea what to do or say.

‘you look hurt – what happened?’ she asked.

‘uh mm I don’t know’ Don fumbled with words.

‘then why do you look so forlorn?’

‘I ve been hurt and I have nothing to look forward to…

'b-but who are you?’

‘I am eternity – I have existed in time and beyond…such is my sorrow’

‘but isn’t that supposed mean ultimate happiness that you don’t die?’

‘your feet that touches this bare earth, this drop of water that trickles down your face, this wind that caresses your face this touch that feels the rain have all but deserted me.Does that make you more lonely than me?

‘When you travel this valley you can see the mountain it garlands….but when you travel the roads you will only wear the bracelet of pebbles…’

She put her hand on Don’s eyes, by the time he opened them again she was gone. So was his pain.

As Don continued his journey towards the top of the hill, he could see signs of civilization and hope. The weather beginning to clear a bit.

It was almost evening and he could see the lights dance in the distance.

Gyanban Thoughts – sometimes in life when things go wrong we question our fate, our existence our future and everything around us, having a ground level view of situations only adds to the confusion and dilemma.It is therefore upon us to rise above the ground level and view the picture from a distance or from a height, you will see the big picture and more importantly a clearer picture.

Who knows it may give you a new perspective. Just like Eternity did to Don, and made him realize to look at the big picture, to look over and above…in this world of micro-management and plans to the T, there is but a superior abstract waiting for all of us.

Read all about it in the final leg of Don's journey on hairpin bend number 7.

"The eye of a human being is a microscope, which makes the world seem bigger than it really is."

Khalil Gibran