Monday

Moon : A story of loss

A story-cum-musing inspired by the image at the end...


Once upon a time a sly and lonely wolf got a mask of sheep. He wore it for a lark and entered the herd of the docile species just as a distraction from his uncelebrated existence. The novelty was like a spark of sunshine in his mundane life. His loneliness made him bear their lame games with patience, laugh at their dumb puritan lifestyle and eat the tasteless grass. But, as fate would have it, he became friends with an ewe and was so enamoured by her  simple ways that forgot his slyness and started living with her herd as one of them.

That was monsoon when days were dark and nights, darker.

All day long, the masked wolf would work with the group, eat grass, chat, laugh and play with the lambs running till the horizon, chasing  rainclouds, blue feathers of his dreamcatcher flying like mystical flames and pearls glinting in sunlight, shining like bliss.

At nights, he would sleep inside the cave with the herd, as innocent like a baby's heart. He wanted to live with them in his real form but his affection for the ewe and fear of losing her, prevented him from disclosing his true identity. His mask was the testimonial of his goodness and a guarantee to stay within the herd and the dreamcatcher attached to it, a symbol of hope.

Days were passing in a happy whizz when one day a yellow leaf twirled in the air. It went past the wolf's eyes swirling towards the ground and a shadow crossed his masked face.
It was an indication of the end of rains.

That night the sky was cloudless, a bright half moon looked down on the dewy pastures and was stunned to see a wolf sleeping calmly with the lambs. The lonely moon smiled with a malicious grin and crept away silently collecting her silver robes. Every night the moon's wicked smile grew wider till, on plenilune, she appeared in her full selenium glory,  aureate like molten gold and dazzlingly beautiful like all things cruel.

The wolf was already experiencing the well known pull.

Well aware of his foredoom he stood up, rising to meet his jealous adversary.
For one last time, he looked back at his friends, his foster family with a hopeless longing well and then in one swift motion leaped out of the herd.
 Making a dash towards the highest peak he bolted like a burning arrow from warrior's quiver!

He was running, sprinting high, constantly diminishing the distance between him and his nemesis in the sky.

The trees were whizzing past in a dark blur, pebbles were flying all around him from beneath his paws as they touched the ground, the meadow, the small brook where the ewe used to call him with the tinkling of her bells, the much loved boscage where she used to wait for him in hiding, the treasured pasture, familiar scenes and phrases, playful moments, laughter, everything .... everything was flashing in front of his eyes clear yet blinding like, a thunder lightening.

He let out a howl of unchained agony. Of mad anger!
A cry of unbearable despair,  of someone who had loved deeply, with his everything and, has lost. Of someone who had guarded the flame of love with his own being and then that flame has been extinguished.

The river slowed down on hearing that cry of pain, the trees bowed down with the weight of that sadness, only the wind blew like a lunatic shouting and shrieking, as if in rage.



The lambs shrank back hiding into their mothers' fur. The older sheep shook their heads in dismay on this careless blunder.
An ominous silence crept over the entire valley. The distant mountains with snow beards sat brooding, a helpless witness to this cruel jest.

In that silence the wolf was burning his lungs with howls of frustration and hopelessness, the unfairness of life and raw anguish of love unreturned!

Only the glorious moon was smiling.



Courtesy: Instagram

****
At times the persona towers the person.  With the art of pretence, the shallow very easily lure in the guise of substantial, charlatans charm by their honed up skills, but those who like the wolf, actually want to transform themselves are stigmatized. 

We severely judge such souls- the weirds, the loners, the eccentrics and the lost ones... while these are some of the most compassionate, the most understanding and unpretentious ones where we fail to listen to their silent cries, to warm up to their expectant eyes and to notice the smile dying slowly from their lips. 

It's not always that the moon is glorious and every wild soul, a beast. 
In these times, roles are reversed, my friend! Be careful! 



Sunday

नज़्म : रंजिश



वो इक पल जिसमे हम दोनों, चले थे हाथ थामे संग,
सज़ा हो उसकी इकतरफा, ये किस तरह से वाज़िब है?

हरसिंगार, चम्पा, नदिया, बरगद जल गये सारे
नहीं जलती मगर यादें ये दिल की कैसी साज़िश है!

कुफर जैसी सियाह सीरत, मुलम्मा झूठ का तिस पर
इबारत इश्क़ की पढ़ ले, भला कैसे मुनासिब है?

खिला था चाँद आंगन में, सितारे जगमगाते थे
अँधेरे को चुना हमने,अबस सी क्यूं ये आदत है?

वो लम्हा जिसमे हंस बैठे ज़माना भूल कर सारा,
सज़ा सदियों पे भारी हो, ख़ुदाया, क्या नवाज़िश है!

ना होते हो तो होते हो, बिना बातों की बातें यूँ,
गोया हर बात हर चुप्पी, बस इक तुम से मुख़ातिब है।

वो बातें जो जलाती हैं, रगों में खूं धुँए मानिंद
उन्ही बातों पे बातें हों, मिरी आख़िरी सिफ़ारिश है।

वो मंज़र जो पिघलते हैं गोया सीसा हो आंखों में
उन्ही को रोज़ देखूँ मैं,  बहुत गहरी ये रंजिश है।





हरसिंगार = night jasmine               चम्पा = Frangipani, Plumeria                 
बरगद = banyan tree                       साज़िश  = ruse, planning
कुफर = sin                                         सीरत= mind, soul
मुलम्मा= outer husk, mask.             अबस= futile
गोया = as if                                       मुख़ातिब = for you, towards
सीसा  = molten lead                         रंजिश= acrimony, bitterness
Image: Google


Saturday

जाने कैसे

मार्ग था सीधा सरल, 
संतोष धन, आशा सखी
ज्ञान दीपित, प्रेम प्लावित, 
वीथियाँ करुणामयी...
जाने कैसे पथ ये तुम तक मुड़  गया 

चाँद सा खिलता निशि में 
सूर्य सा सोना उगलता 
पवन से भी तीव्रतर मेरा 
हृदय ऐसे  विचरता 
जैसे खुले नभ में उड़ा जाए 
अकेला एक पंछी ...
जाने कैसे फिर ये तुमसे जुड़ गया 

सीखा मेरे मद से 
भंवर ने गुनगुनाना 
हास से फूलों ने सीखा 
खिलखिलाना 
और मेरे कण्ठ से 
मधुमय सुधा सा राग फैला ... 
फिर भी मन तितली सा मचला, उड़ गया? 

सुनहरी लकदक से सज्जित
कुछ सुधामय बोल मीठे
था प्रथम, था नया अनुभव 
बुन लिए कुछ स्वप्न झूठे 
जाल सम्मुख देख कर भी, 
बस फुदकना डाल पर उस
नेह का बंधन ये ऐसा पड़  गया।

निस्तब्धता में स्वर,
वही, गुँजार सुनना
और रव में मौन-स्मित
उपवास रखना 
जान कर भी यूँ
बधिक की राह तकना...
श्वास की गति तक ये क्रम अब पड़ गया..

जाने कैसे पथ ये तुम तक मुड़ गया।







Image: watch this beautiful movie on an unusual friendship here

वीथियाँ  करुणामयी - lanes of compassion.                मद- flamboyance
निस्तब्धता - silence, solitude 
रव - frolic, noise
बधिक- executioner, slayer                             श्वास की गति- till the last breath                              क्रम- routine

Thursday

Sunshine : A story of Happiness


Another silver-purple dawn had cracked. 
 The tall deodar trees were standing still, silhouetted against the rapidly unfurling dawn waiting for the winter sun to rise. The dewy Dhauladhar hills were now visible- now gone, with the swirling mist playing one last hide-and-seek with them before moving to the higher altitudes.
The quaint hamlet of Yol was slowly waking up to the morning voices of the gushing river, twittering birds and dewdrops falling from the eaves. Nestled like an exotic flower amid the sylvan surroundings Yol seemed to be forgotten by its countrymen, from their minds and maps both. Away from civilization, it was untouched and undiscovered.

That winter morning, without electricity, the village was enshrouded under the purple veil of darkness waiting for the sunshine to light it up. But, the ladies had already started hurrying up with their chores, lads were helping elders with household errands, menfolk were getting ready for work and little children, they were waiting inside their quilts for their fathers and uncles to step out of home so that they can rush outside to play!


The little daughters of sun, the sunbeams were also waiting for their Papa to get done with preparations and move out of their heavenly abode. Dressed in dazzling reds, ambers and golds, they were eagerly counting minutes till their father rose up from behind the mountains so that, they too can run out into the inviting playground of the world.

 "What is it that their punctual dad is being delayed today?" they wondered. 
It was getting late and they were fidgeting with a radiant energy ready to burst! At last the Hero daddy defeated the dense clouds and made them pave way for him. The  mist rose up, dancing for him but her fake coyness evaporated the moment she observed his stern face, red with irritation on being detained. His temper was rising by every passing second and the way a crafty wily person can't bear the brilliance of honesty, the shallow mist, in front of sun's splendour dispersed into a lack-luster nothingness! 

Oblivious to the worldly game of virtuous and conniving, the girls were restless with their childish exuberance and the moment their mighty father ascended the sky glorious in his majestic vermilion regalia, they ran out pell-mell; one over the other, bubbling with joy, uninterrupted, their tiny pink feet taking them here, there, everywhere! The bright smile of their faces sprinkling golden dust on all earthly objects bestowing them a magical transformation from mundane to the morning fresh, lighting up every corner of the village. 
The warmth of their laughter filtered into the ornate rooms of madames through peacock latticed windows, caressed the delicate filigrees on the balustrade of the white staircases, made the eaves cozy and comfortable for the birds to hold their meet and spilled inside the dressing rooms, touching each bottle of rose attar on the mahogany dressing tables, making them glint with a pink delight! 
The radiance of their cherubic jolly faces threw a sheen on lush emerald gardens and the heat of their incessant chatter reached up to the kitchen shelves bringing the mango and chilly pickle to ripe up tart!  Through the gaping holes in the straw roof, they peered into huts of the poor and packed the empty nooks with a warm benevolence.
The bubbly girls then ran through the fields; browning the grains, into the orchards; tickling the apples, pinching the berries, hopped over small hills; caressing the fleece of sheep, danced over the running streams, kissed the cheeks of the children playing in the streets and rubbed shimmer on the red of the bangles of the new mountain brides! Ah, they were girls, after all!

They dazzled the only blackboard of the village school spotless clean making it shine so black that all eyes hurt and combed grandpa's pure white hair making the maze sparkle as if ablaze with golden silver flames!
Tired after all this early morning madness, they silently creeped up in to the pallav of mother's sari, making the gold of zari thread sparkle and the silver of her anklets twinkle. 
Then, like clingy children, followed her to the temple sitting bright amid the pooja thali with incense, sticks, earthen diya ,saffron genda, yellow white champa and red jawakusum flowers.

The head priest blew the conch, the devotees chimed the hundred temple bells, the red triangular flags laced with gold fluttered like scarlet flames in wind over every temple dome and for that split second, nature bowed in reverence to the Creator as the little girls of sun, the sun-rays, the sunbeams dispersed, filling the temple with their liquid warmth, scattering into million tiny atoms of light inside the sanctum sanctorum, leaving their glitter on every stone and pebble, unfurling and dancing on the temple floor drawing mystical patterns of the divine. 
In that moment Nature became unified with the Creator as light merged with the Illuminated One - the Jyotiraditya Jyotirmay.




The sleepy hamlet of Yol was covered under the thick veil of blue...



...and, at last, the sun rose up. :)


pallav = the floating end of a sari.                                                                            genda = marigold                         yellow white champa = yellow white Frangipani or pluumeria                            red jawakusum = red hibiscus





Monday

Missing : A letter

Prompt: Missing

Dear friend, 

Thank-you you for being graceful in your parting note but don't you think, it would have been better if you had allowed me to bid adieu too? Or, were you too scared to give me a chance to speak?

Am indebted to you for the last impression I have of you- the last few days and the final gracious bow... 🙂
It showed your compassionate heart and honest unblemished soul. 
Moving on with honesty and reason is a sign of growth and intelligence while scampering away like a mouse is not. And, lying and withholding information is devilish, disillusioning, disgusting and shattering. 

I MUST say that, being a creative person I reserve the right to be expressive about the feelings and times we have shared. Unlike you, I don't have ANY ulterior motives, I don't drop names, nor I want to please the movers and shakers of the society. Always hated gimmicks! 
I write. Almost the same way you breathe. Bas, aise hi.

Please, don't EVER feel pleased enough to strike a bet with others that I am calling you back through my poetry or colours, my songs or my smiles. No. I never did. 
Just missed you. 
Missing is one thing, wanting is another. 
                                                                  - yours truly.





Written for Friday Reflections with Corinne and Shalini who are hosting it for the prompt missing

Friday

Haiku/Senryu : Tears



 at every day break 
life smiles with promises new
 couple of dewdrops fall





Images : sunshineblueclouds blog

ग़ुलाब- The Rose

                 ग़ुलाब एक...                                    डॉयरी के पन्नों में,                                     कोयल ने फिर कुह...