Train of Thoughts I

Train of Thoughts I
I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Of course you will call 3.46 a.m. as early morning but a person who sleeps at 2.30 a.m., may not. But it also looked like the middle of the night. Though there were big street lights illuminating the road, the sky was still dark, and more so because of the rain clouds. And so was my room, getting only some light thrown into it from the corridor through the wide sky-light covered with frosted glass-panes. But as my eyes opened they saw only darkness, may be because sleep was still clinging to the lashes. So when I woke up, practically only one of my five senses (for I doubt my sixth sense) was working with its full strength, the one that actually woke me up, my auditory sense i.e. my ears.


In the dead of night I heard the rain falling quietly and at a constant rate. The sounds that the drops made were almost the same at any point of time. For almost fifteen minutes from the moment my eyes opened to the dripping sounds, I kept lying motionless like the night, on my bed, listening to the rhythm of the regular drops and the music of the stillness beyond. Strangely no crickets were shouting or any frogs croaking. On the whole I was almost numb except for my ears, lying on the bed, feeling heavy and strength-less to move. I tried but failed to move even a finger. My mind felt heavy too, recollecting slowly but surely all that you have done and I have done and my life has done to me. The deepest and the heaviest of thoughts and memories invaded my brain. And to my disappointment, I only kept missing the best and the sweetest times. The next moment, realising that you are no more there in my life, the best memories gave the worst pain. Anyway, my tears have dried and at that moment I was cold and numb. So I did not cry for you anymore. Rather it seemed that the sky was heavy with sorrow and the clouds worked as its tear glands.


I, ultimately, decided to drop those worthless thoughts and with the strength of a moment pulled myself out of the spoiling, soft mattress and switched on the light to help me come back to reality. I sat back on the bed for some seconds, thought of making a cup of tea or coffee but was too sleepy, lazy, tired, hesitant and sad for it. I switched off the light again, hit the pillow with my head, curled up, closed my eyes tight, switched off my mind too and lost myself in some unknown land where you were not there to bother me anymore.

The Lane I Cannot Visit Again

I was walking down a lonely lane. It was breezy. Draughts of breeze kept passing by, touching me softly. Sometimes it was cool, sometimes cold. And sometimes it used to stop; it was warm during those moments, as if time had come to a stand still.
I walked a few steps ahead, most of the times looking at the ground. I noticed some familiar pebbles scattered on the way. I picked them up. Some were transparent like crystals. I could not recollect seeing some of them before. But I could recognise some signs the others had.
While I was observing this, suddenly it started drizzling. The droplets were small. I wiped those off from my cheeks. It started raining a little more heavily. The pebbles were damp now. I could not bear holding them longer. So I dropped them there and moved ahead.
Slowly the sky cleared and I saw the sun smiling soothingly at me. There were some more pebbles, dry and clean, reminding me of the happy times. They just brought a subtle but says-it-all smile on my lips.
Suddenly, I heard somebody calling me from far behind, almost from the end of the road. The voice was coming from far away and, from the place I was standing, it sounded absolutely unfamiliar. My eyes tried hard to see and eventually gave way, they opened and I realised where I was. I was at this end of the memory lane where the sequence of memories ends, i.e., in the present. And the voice was of the most recent inclusion in my life, my husband. I got to know that I cannot go back to the memory lane again but in dreams.

Chand ki thandi ye chandni,
Us se ubalta hua ye paani,
Is garm-thande paani ke kinaare,
Bane honge jaane kitne kahani.

Kaeen chale honge nanhe kadam,
Kaeen jale honge rasm-e-dharam,
Kaeen beete honge mausam-e-bahar,
Khile honge jaane kitne jawaani.

Ye ped aur ye jhokhein hawa ke,
Kitne patte, kitne jhokhein gawa ke,
Khamosh khade samete jaate hai,
Yaadein…kuch sukhe, kuch suhani.

Zameen ne peee wo aansu geele,
Aasmaan suna jab hasin khile,
Dunia se door duniyaan base yahan,
Aaj phir chali ik aur ki rawani.

Lamhe aaj hai naye-puraane,
Kuch pehchaane, kuch anjaane,
Par baat ek ab bhi na badli,
Tu hi inka raja, aur mein rani!

Was staring at the sky,
Somebody walked by,
My eyes alighted, alighted with a sigh,
Impatient and restless,
They hunted low and high,
My heart beat fast,
Oh please don’t cry!
Puzzled and bewildered,
I kept asking my eye,
Did you see something true,
Or is it another lie?
Did someone enter my life,
Or someone bade goodbye?
Tell me, is it the same old love,
Or someone new has touched by!?

Those Eyes Unknown

Those Eyes Unknown

In the station’s crowd,
My eyes hit a face,
Appeared good,
Till a second glance.
Not something to wait upon.

I lost the face, to face it again,
Inside the train.
Didn’t realise it was the same,
For I just met the eyes.
Mesmerising,
I kept gazing on.

At a distance they were,
The face was hidden,
But those two.
They weren’t looking my way,
But I couldn’t help.
The hidden face seemed handsome,
Just for the tranquil eyes.
And thus…
My observations went on and on.

A little bit swollen, a little elongated,
An odd combination, but so perfectly balanced.
Shaped like canoes with pupils mounted,
Which were half hidden behind heavy, fleshy lids,
As if hanging down from them.
The sleepy canoes looked drunk,
Looked like rowing in a stream of dreams,
Dreams of the future less than the bygone.

Deep and loaded,
Heavy you may call them,
Difficult to decipher,
What all they bore.
Shy when stared at,
Conscious the next moment,
Irritated if you persist,
But with a poise of their own.

Shifting fast wasn’t a trait,
Moved slow, stayed at places,
To make sure of things around.
But not much bothered did they seem,
About anything,
Be it loneliness or the crowd.
Weren’t good as mirrors of soul,
Expressed nothing but stillness and indifference.
Accustomed to this life, they seemed to have grown.

Beautiful eyes, nonetheless!
Beautiful when just rose from sleep,
When closed, seemed pencil-drawn.
The way they looked, was like eyes of girls,
Though they didn’t look like a girl’s,
Had the best of both,
But showed none.
Were either bored of the crowd,
Or were all alone!

COMPARE...

It is one of those typical Indian villages, like those you find in Uttar Pradesh or Madhya Pradesh. (Don't worry, I will not take you to the extreme conditions of Gujarat or Rajasthan.) Around 2.20 p.m. it is i.e. the sun is burning almost right above the woman's head. All the doors are closed, the place is desolate, dry, in every sense of the word, and the loo has made a dense layer of the fertile soil (which can be called sand in its dry condition) in the atmosphere, denser than a fog, and it is coloured too, brown. The density, the colour and above that, the sand particles were not letting her see around properly. She had come out to take some water from the village well, but she could hardly even see the water level inside. With whatever little she could manage to pull out, she is tracing her footsteps back. People at her home have even run out of their saliva. So even that little amount of water is a desperate need for her, her family. But as she walks, I can see her sweating profusely, almost melting and the water in the pot over her head is evaporating towards the ever-thirsty sun above. What an ironical sight! And we here, sitting in front of the television, under the fans or air conditioners, complain of heat, humidity and sweating!!!

VIRTUAL ESCAPISM

VIRTUAL ESCAPISM
While working on the boring, mundane assignments my mind, which is not called the fastest vehicle for no reason, suddenly drifted away to the lower parts of the slopes of a hill. It was partly rocky and partly green, a very coveted combination for hills. Tranquil, the surrounding was; and to add to that, a creek was flowing on the brown and grey, polished and shiny pebbles, by the slopes which hardly made any sound unless you strain your ears to listen to the almost inaudible gurgling. Some very soft-spoken birds also chirped from the tree-tops. But they were also as inaudible if not given attention to.
I was sitting by the side of the water-body, on the pebbled which were a little rougher on the banks. There was a very well-shaped rock too, to sit on. But I chose to sit on the ground to feel that I was closer to nature and the earth.
Clouds covered the sky. Not fully dark they were, but also not white. As they say, there are also shades of grey in this world. But it was evident that they were rain clouds and they were beautifully shady. To top it all, a very slow and soothing breeze was blowing. It used to touch my left cheek and pass and I felt like soft cotton balls caressing my cheeks. And my eyes did not need any deliberate effort to close themselves, as if the breeze was passing a soft hand over them. The whole part of the country seemed to come out of Europe, specifically somewhere from Scotland.
I had had hard time thinking about my future and present work the whole of that day and, without any physical strain, I was frustrated and, consequently, tired. I was wearing a loose, white top with its button going up to the neck. Feeling the breeze, I wanted more of it. So I opened the most uncomfortable button on my neck and, seriously felt a lot relieved and relaxed. Really, even clothes have such effect on our mood.
Then, I stretched my legs towards the creek and leaning back a little (I know this is a very common way of relaxing but I cannot be unique all the time), dreamt of my future, not think. And, to my surprise which could not be pleasanter, I was blank! I saw nothing in front of my eyes except for the beautifully, dully coloured clouds. Just now and then I got glimpses of a beautiful lover or a cosy home at the foothills and a content life. But the next moment, I loved to be blank and alone, and happy that I had got that moment. This was an escape from the unpleasant reality and I took shelter in my dreams, but of course, trying to place a harmony between the two. This sudden fantasy made me relaxed for at least three days and may continue further. People say dreamers are impractical; you should come back to the earth. But who can survive all these earthly tensions if we won’t have dreams!?