Amore

Do you look at the same stars?

And see them twinkle as I do…

Do you feel the wind across the face?

As I kiss you too.

Do you miss me so much?

As much as I do…

Do you remember the swaying trees?

As I hear them sing…

Do your eyes follow the notes?

As they turn to spring…

Do you trace the footprints in snow?

As I blend with the rising sun…

Do you still keep the torn notebook?

As I paste memories of a lifetime….

Do you write with the color of blood?

As I live and die another life…

Do your eyes moisten?

As I leave my breath behind.

Do you wander in the same garden?

As I close the gates forever.

Do you seek the flower?

That I bury under the ground….

Do you love me the way I do?

As I close my eyes without you.

 

Gyanban thoughts :  I was listening to Martin Carthy's arrangement which Simon and Garfunkel turned to an epic Canticle/Scarborough Fair mix, it inspired me to pen a few lines of my own. Though originally a medieval English ballad with unknown origins, it revolves around a stranger visiting the town of Scarborough carrying a message of impossible tasks for the lover to perform.Carrying on with the same essence of love and war as a metaphor for what we have and have not, what we miss forever and what we treasure within us. A heart full of memories and a mind full of realities..I wrote these few lines as an ode to soldiers who lost their loved ones, and in some sense, we are all fighting aren't we?

Really TV

Half awake at 2 the TV spoke ‘go save the soul next door’.

I went and came back.

Next I opened my eyes, it was a police station.

I asked them to see the evidence...

I showed them the carefully wrapped heart.

Glistening and still bubbling with soul.

I think they did not like the soiled severed digits.

Gyanban Thoughts - this is a dark psychological narrative.The story actually unfolds in between the lines rather than what is written.This is a deliberate attempt to have the reader think or visualise his/her own conclusion.If you read the story in detail you will need to sequence the lines one after the other only then the sequence of events will fall in place.That's when you get the big picture.

Overt

Hidden should be the thoughts

Hidden should be the feelings,

My love travails a difficult path

Fragile is the hope that brings,

Feelings, overt Feelings.

Hidden should be the emotions,

Hidden should be the passion

My body engulfs a silent flicker

Delicate is the path that awaits

Soul and it’s overt feelings….

This poem is about conflict of aspirations versus reality.Often in life we are in vulnerable situations,where the mind and heart contradict.The desire to go ahead on the path is strong,and so is the knowledge of reality behind us.It is therefore a choice some make to let go, and some forgo...

image courtesy :desktopnexus.com

Milestones -2

Milestone -1

Milestone -3

As he approached the second bend, he felt a strange sense of happiness that had eluded him for so long. Quite inexplicable really, but he did feel really good. He had nursed the little lamb to feel better, seemed so trivial, but the happiness felt so surreal.

On foot of the second bend he saw an old woman sitting quietly by the roadside. He noticed that she was not begging either. She just sat there with the lonely hills and silent trees. The drizzle had intensified a bit and it was getting chilly. He should have, could have, walked on.

But he didn’t

He squatted before the old woman and gestured pointing to the rain. The woman looked into his eyes without blinking. Age had shown visible signs of degeneration on her face. A face which told the stories of a thousand battles fought and lost mostly. A face which counted the moments left behind and the bliss to come…hopefully. They seemed to tell a story of lost hope.

Don’s eyes were moist...He was holding back his tears. But it was hard. There was a connect somewhere. She could see his heart, his pains…as if she took it upon her -as if not he, but she had gone through it all. As the drizzle became a light rain, maybe as an indication for Don to let go. He cried like he never did before, the floodgates of pain were flowing. There were so many angry waves from the past, some prejudiced, some misunderstood and some plain hurt.

Not a word was spoken. The old woman put her hand on his head. Her frail fingers wiped his tears. They seemed to say, it s ok to cry. Moments passed and the rain had eased. Don’s felt a sense of burden lift from his head. He felt like he had emptied the bucket. He was feeling fresh like the morning rain on the hills.

He searched his wallet and gave her some money. She looked at him and smiled faintly. Her trembling fingers returned the money in his shirt pocket. Don felt like a daft. He opened his bag back and gave her a woolen shawl. She was motionless, as if her breath waited for that one moment of kindness. Don never forgot the last look in her eyes…emptiness and hope fighting for a place. A silent tear struggled to stay in her eyes…before dropping to earth.

It was time for Don to move on. He had lost his past to gain a drop of the present.

Gyanban Thoughts - We dont know what we hold back.Somewhere somehow it will have to flow, you have to let go.Sometimes we hold back so much that we forget where we started storing it.lost deep inside, a hurt which never comes out but resides,a soul which cries to be heard,to be understood to be freed...so let go.

Don's journey continues through yet another bend.As he moves forward the hills and the roads throw new light , a new sight, a new hope for Don. But he is still loaded,and the burden is too much to let go too soon,he lugs his bag pack to the next hairpin bend.See where it leads...

Read Milestone -3

image courtesy :desktopnexus.com

Undefeated - Aparajita I

'It would be on Friday ' remarked the party president Raja babu at the congregation of the party meeting.

Lal Prasad slowly raised his head,but could not utter his resentment...instead he asked "what do I need to do ?

Raja babu noted Lal Prasad's clenched fist...but chose not to address it.

'I will let you know tonight'.In the meanwhile make all preparations, I want maximum impact' trailed off Raja babu into his cabin.

Raja Babu had brought Lalla over from his village to the city of joy...and perhaps dreams.

Raja babu was an excellent judge of people and knew potential when he saw one. Lalla, as he was affectionately called, beat up 3 people in the middle of a busy street, Raja babu had noted the ferocity and intensity in every punch and kick he delivered.

It was intense. No one dared to stop him , such was the power of his aggression.

Raja babu knew at that instant, Lalla would someday be useful to him.

Lalla had a developed a certain perception around him - stay away - which was complimented by his height at 6 feet 2 inches ,a lanky frame , his face bore a scar over the left eye, ruffled hair, and eyes looking down with eyebrows raised, big deep set eyes, put on mascara, and a slight frown on his face perpetually.

The fire within made him stronger in the mind. People often got misled by his lean appearance only to get shocked and beaten later.

"how long and how many will you fight?' asked Raja babu in the canteen sitting beside Lalla sipping tea, as drops of blood sprinkled on the white saucer.

“You need to get out of here and do something more important else risk dying an anonymous death .

Lalla did not respond. He looked at Raja babu with his eyebrows raised and eyes lowered, and went back to drinking his tea. After a brief moment of silence, Raja babu took the napkin on the table, and wrote his number down. “Call me, if you want to be something in life'...and left without waiting for Lalla's response.

Few years later,marriage,poverty and no money had forced Lalla to call the number.

"What are you going to do' ? Inquired a worried Susma lying in a general room at Ruby Hospital...

' I don't know, and stop bothering me with questions ..Lal Prasad said to his wife in a deep baritone...without inflection.’

You know I can't refuse Raja Babu after all he has done for us. This is his hour of need and I have to standby him'.Lalla said as he opened the top two buttons of his shirt and sat down on the floor.

Just this one last time and I am done with the debt’.'I will leave all this and start a new life Susma.. We’ll go somewhere else and make a new beginning...I am not going to get defeated by the system anymore..’

Just then , the phone rang - 'at sunset on Friday we will light up the park... a familiar voice said at the other end of the line. We meet near Ruby hospital sharp at 5PM - the minister is arriving for the function at the park opposite the hospital.' 'That should be the last function he attends along with his followers." click...the phone hung up.

Friday morning during the regular checkup Dr.Gandhi said ‘Mr.Prasad you would need to get ready by evening for the delivery…possibly earlier..We have given Susma some medication already’.

The clock seemed to tick faster that day…every tick tock hurt Lalla’s head. He was tensed and for the first time in her life Susma saw her husband’s vulnerable face under the tough exterior.

The minister was on his way & the motorcade preceding his car signaled his proximity. Lal Prasad signaled to his fellow party members to get ready for action…as he lay hidden behind the dark glasses of the parked white ambassador.

The vibrating phone in his left pocket showed Susma on the screen..

‘Please come now...They are taking me to the delivery room’..sounded a harried Susma.

‘Susma I can’t I am tied up, you know…’ screaming in labor pain Susma interrupted & pleaded Lalla ....he disconnected the phone.

The minister stepped on the dais and began to address the crowd. His party members were in the front row – this is exactly where he had to disrupt the proceedings. His fellow party members had their own share of arsenal to ignite…he had a gun.

Lalla slowly moved out of the car and walked into the park as an ordinary follower and sat near the exit gate.

It was time.

Just when he was about to take a shot – his phone vibrated again…he thought it was Susma again and did not take the call…before he could take another aim a sharp gunshot pierced his back..Chaos triggered.and simultaneously a loud explosion was heard...

There was dust in the air and people were screaming…Lalla got kicked and pushed as he rolled on the ground struggling to keep consciousness and go to the hospital a few yards ahead…as he lifted his head up he saw his fellow party member lying dead on the ground.

The crude bomb shrapnel had fleeced his skin, slit his throat and blood oozing from his mutilated left arm clutching a vibrating phone…

Meanwhile, in the operation theater Susma and the doctors struggled to deliver the baby as the chaos in the park led to disturbances in the hospital..The mob broke glass panes and ran helter skelter some in shock and some to shock others…

As the clock ticked ...the doctors were beginning to look at each other while trying to untangle the infant from the same source that gave her life… now could be the reason for her death.

There were complications in the pregnancy, she had probably died at birth some thought, for a few seconds...as the umbilical cord had almost choked her...but she fought.She survived. She arrived in this world with blood on her face and determination in her genes. The frantic efforts of the surgeons had given her a new life.

When Lalla unclenched the phone from the corpse he saw Raja babu flashing on the screen…

‘hello...Bhanu Singh…are you there..did you manage to kill Lalla ?’ ‘I knew he was having second thoughts about being with us, besides he knew too much, he had to die today...Disrupting the ministers gang was an added bonus…we killed two birds with one stone...good riddance to bad rubbish isn’t it Bhanu’..

Lalla gathered his breath and courage to speak a few words....‘Raja babu…my debt is over…..oh and another thing... get yourself insured..At least your family will benefit from your demise’.

Lalla threw the phone away..And walked towards the hospital bleeding profusely…he fell 20 steps short of the operation theater and his life - where his daughter was born…undefeated by her fate and circumstance...

‘She was born to fight’ Doctor Gandhi remarked…I’ll call her Aparajita’ said Susma closing her eyes with a wry smile…

Gyanban thoughts - This post is an ode to the 70's Hindi Film Industry.The character,the backdrop,the sequencing all are an attempt to expand my writing skills to a different genre - that of a masaala thriller.I have tried to be completely visual about the scenes and enacted them in my mind.! Was itching to do a character sketch of Raja babu in further detail giving an angle of twisted positivity to it..maybe in it's sequel.

Revenir

When I was a nobody,

you walked in to be somebody,

my life was going no where,

don't know why you wanted to share,

love luck or money I had very few,

and you came out of the blue,

my night is long and I know why,

walk away or you'll just cry..

but you walked with me...

when I didnt have a penny,
those days were really funny
walking into a restaurant was easy,

it's the price list that made me queasy,

walked out quietly, head hung low,

promising some-day i 'll show,

standing in front of a big mall,

and eating by the road-stall

still you walked with me...

when i didn't have a job to pay bills,

those winters of silent chills,

that scooter without a back rest holder,

and you clutched on to my shoulder,

the ride long and winding,

getting lost and then finding,

but then one day when it broke down,

I was kicking but you didn't frown

and you walked with me...

the local trains were jammed,

you got jostled and rammed,

the rickshaws wouldn't oblige,

night shows and the fights,

the bus was always late,

getting a seat together wasn't my fate,

I stood hanging by the bar,

your eyes moist like twinkling star,

your soft smile and that little sob,

kept me going every day,

and you walked with me...

the day i decided to leave,

to make my dream weave,

the packings were silent,

the smiling goodbyes were diligent,

the tear drops asked me to stay,

the lips never parted,but the eyes gave it away,

the walk into the plane was long,

but I had to be strong,

away I went over the seven seas,

leaving behind my treasure of memories,

and you walked with me...

many moons had passed away,

I sat by the same subway,

as the trains rushed by,

the strangers asked me why,

I would've jumped on the track

but a hand held me back,

It rained hard that evening,

as I looked up in the sky,

I saw you crying and saying..

I ll always walk with you...

Gyanban thoughts - Revenir means come back in French.Often time we keep waiting for the right moment,only to realize later that the wonderful moments we spend together..were the ones to be cherished..sometimes in life we forget the price we have to pay for our dreams..

All In A Days Work

It was 6 o clock in the evening,12 candles lit in front of her empty eyes,a faint smile,some tears,and some bruises, they'd all had come to attend Jenny's birthday.

Some were new friends and some were with her ever since she could remember.But something inside told her that today was going to be different. 6 AM tomorrow, she would travel to the big city of dreams.Jenny's father who seldom got up from his drunken stupor had a fresh look on his face today.There was hope in his eyes.He had made all the arrangements,"she would be well taken care of" he thought,"besides she had no future here in this small town" he said to himself silently.

Jenny was getting dressed up for the evening, and had packed her bags for tomorrows journey.Deep inside, she knew it would be some time before she would come back.She took a long hard look at her corner in that one room house.She left nothing behind, certainly not her memories.

Jenny's father borrowed some more money,and bought a new bottle tonight,his last night of responsibility.He would be a free man from tomorrow,and perhaps rich too.Jenny's sale would fetch him 5000 bucks.!He had worked so hard for this deal, all in a hard days work finally paying off.

Suddenly,Jenny's out of focus eyes,and shaking body both came back to reality.
"Here's your 500 bucks" the man said gingerly...and then got up and left Jenny with her old friends..empty eyes,a faint smile,some tears,and some bruises and some new ones like the 24 candles...all in a day's or rather night's work.



The window rolls down,
A pair of eyes frown,
muffled voices drown,
seems from out of town.

Walking by the road side,
some tease and some chide,
I no longer try to hide,
move on,brush them aside.

It's been a tough night,
no sign of money tonight,
must get back for another shift,
this time I'll take the lift.

I am fighting for a living,
But i die everyday,
I hope this is my last outing,
I don't want to be a prey,
my fate is not be a destitute,
someday I will not be
this roadside prostitute...

Show me the way or take me away..

How do you keep on going ,
when you don't see the light ahead,
how do you keep on living,
when an innocent tear is shed.

How do you keep on smiling,
when your heart is bleeding,
How do you keep on being positive,
when peace has taken a sedative.



How do you not give up,
when things are not looking up,
how do you keep fighting,
when your life is approaching the evening.

If there is one above,
this is the time to show your love,
keep the spirit on a roll,
or take out the burning soul.
show me the way,
or take me away...