feelings

Unmatched

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 3 Comments

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah, where do I begin , where do I stop !
Did my story begin on the day of my birth ?
Was it a joyful occasion, filled with mirth ?
Or was I the abandoned child of my father,
Cause of pain, shame, or pride to my mother.
I can not give you a lineage sparkling clean,
But I can promise a future with joyous sheen.

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah, where do I begin, where do I stop !
I was this charismatic lover, all my life,
For women and money I never did strife.
Was I a social stigma, or a gallant knight ?
Did people throng around me with respect or fright ?
You look at me askance with your innocent eyes,
But my answers can only whisper silent cries.

You ask for my story , my sweet love,
Aah, where do I begin, where do I stop !
You walked into my life, a beautiful, fragile dream,
Drenching me softly, in an over flowing stream.
I can chant your name with ecstacy all night ,
And wake up to your gentle face, cradled by sunlight.
For a lady of your stature , I may not be worthy,
Will you still keep me forever, I humbly implore thee.

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah, where do I begin, where do I stop !
When they will call you my darling, by my name,
Will it bring you honour or will you shy with shame ?
I do not have the power to add to your glory,
My poorly designed life is a series of misery.
Yet I seek your love, it is indeed my selfish desire,
To dance and burn by your side, I’m a beetle around fire.

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah , where do I begin, where do I stop !
Like a beggar waiting for alms, I wait at your door,
With your one tender look, my life feels restored.
You ask me one simple question, in return of your love,
My life’s fragmented story, only the heaven knows above.
Together we could weave our dreamland of passion,
Yet, you seek to dive deep, into my past commotion.

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah, where do I begin,  where do I stop !
Come to me my dearest, hold your questions afar,
I will wait for you till eternity, my doors open ajar.
Horses and carriages, old mansions by the lake,
The pleasures of the riches will be for yours to take.
The rubies on your neck, your bangles opaque jade,
With time my darling their dazzle shall fade.

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah, where do I begin, where do I stop !
My devotion to your love will stand the test of time,
Way beyond the glorious days of our youthful prime.
No hopes or promises for a forever, blissful, home,
But holding your hand, the world around we will roam.
Our path will glitter with the stars and the northern lights,
We will seal our story with a gentle kiss on wakeful nights .

You ask for my story, my sweet love,
Aah, this is where I begin,
And this is where I stop.

Drishti

/ sangeeta_chakladar / Leave a comment

Revati sat idle by the window, a soft yellow wool ball resting on her lap. The knitting needles were kept on the round old table next to her. Revati was wondering if she should knit a cap for little Sana or a stole for Sana’s mother, her daughter. She loved this season of winter, the cosy feeling, sitting here by the window, the afternoon sun warming her socks covered feet and the touch of cool breeze against her face.

Soon this beautiful silent hour would end. Her daughter would walk in with a cup of chai, breaking into Revati’s reverie with her own loud voice, but till then the afternoon was hers and hers alone. Revati turned her head to face the window. The window was half closed, but that did not block the view of the green mountains in the horizon against the blue hazed skies. Somewhere deeper down in the valley the stream was gurgling away in a rushed frenzy, eager to reach some unknown destination. The big mahogany tree outside the window blocked the view to the stream. It was such a serene feeling, to sit by this window and day dream.

Lost in her own thoughts Revati did not hear the door to her room creek open. Her daughter had entered with the evening chai. With a loud thud she kept the cup on the round table by her mother’s side and started scolding her mildly, “ Ma, why are you sitting by the open window ? “ Revati was startled by her daughter’s entry, she somehow mumbled “ It is not very cold yet, and then you know.. how I love looking out at those green mountains in the horizon.” The daughter’s tone was on the borderline of frustration, “ Ma , you are dreaming again! How many times have I told you that there are no mountain ranges outside this window or any window of this flat, or anywhere in this city. And even if there were mountains, how could you see them? Why do you keep going back to imagining this strange mind space you have created. Don’t you remember anything of the present Ma? “

Revati was quiet for a few moments, angry tears ran down her blind eyes, wetting her crumpled cheeks. Memories these days had started playing funny games with her mind, sometimes totally deleting the line between the past and the present. It seemed to be just the other day when she could see her world with her own eyes and now the engulfing darkness all around at times threatened to engulf her very being.

Revati didn’t know what to tell her daughter, how could she explain that in her mind she could see the river, the stream, the mahagony tree. She did not need her eyes to see them. And speaking of the present, she remembered the harsh reality that Revati, the beautiful pahari girl named Revati, was now the old and blind woman living with her angry, loud daughter.

How could she explain to her daughter that it was this world of visualisation which filled her dark world with the abundance of light and colour. Why should she let go of this only power she had, to visualise a world of her dreams, a world of her past and live there blissfully, only if for a few hours. With a sigh the daughter picked up the ‘red’ wool ball from the floor, she picked up the walking stick from the floor and held her mother’s arm by the elbow…” Now, now, it’s alright Ma. Don’t look so sad and angry at the same time. Let me take you to the bed. Very soon Sana will be back from the playground and I will send her to your room, then both of you can tell each other all the stories of your day.”

A big smile gently replaced the tears and frown on Revati’s face. Soon her little Sana will jump into her bed and demand “Nani, tell me a new story today”. Of course Revati would tell her little Sana a new tale, and once again with her inner world of visuals Revati will create the story book of her eternal daylight dreams and she already had a name for it…Drishti.

Drishti

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 4 Comments

Revati sat idle by the window, a soft yellow wool ball resting on her lap. The knitting needles were kept on the round old table next to her. Revati was wondering if she should knit a cap for little Sana or a stole for Sana’s mother, her daughter. She loved this season of winter, the cosy feeling, sitting here by the window, the afternoon sun warming her socks covered feet and the touch of cool breeze against her face.

Soon this beautiful silent hour would end. Her daughter would walk in with a cup of chai, breaking into Revati’s reverie with her own loud voice, but till then the afternoon was hers and hers alone. Revati turned her head to face the window. The window was half closed, but that did not block the view of the green mountains in the horizon against the blue hazed skies. Somewhere deeper down in the valley the stream was gurgling away in a rushed frenzy, eager to reach some unknown destination. The big mahogany tree outside the window blocked the view to the stream. It was such a serene feeling, to sit by this window and day dream.

Lost in her own thoughts Revati did not hear the door to her room creek open. Her daughter had entered with the evening chai. With a loud thud she kept the cup on the round table by her mother’s side and started scolding her mildly, “ Ma, why are you sitting by the open window ? “ Revati was startled by her daughter’s entry, she somehow mumbled “ It is not very cold yet, and then you know.. how I love looking out at those green mountains in the horizon.” The daughter’s tone was on the borderline of frustration, “ Ma , you are dreaming again! How many times have I told you that there are no mountain ranges outside this window or any window of this flat, or anywhere in this city. And even if there were mountains, how could you see them? Why do you keep going back to imagining this strange mind space you have created. Don’t you remember anything of the present Ma? “

Revati was quiet for a few moments, angry tears ran down her blind eyes, wetting her crumpled cheeks. Memories these days had started playing funny games with her mind, sometimes totally deleting the line between the past and the present. It seemed to be just the other day when she could see her world with her own eyes and now the engulfing darkness all around at times threatened to engulf her very being.

Revati didn’t know what to tell her daughter, how could she explain that in her mind she could see the river, the stream, the mahagony tree. She did not need her eyes to see them. And speaking of the present, she remembered the harsh reality that Revati, the beautiful pahari girl named Revati, was now the old and blind woman living with her angry, loud daughter.

How could she explain to her daughter that it was this world of visualisation which filled her dark world with the abundance of light and colour. Why should she let go of this only power she had, to visualise a world of her dreams, a world of her past and live there blissfully, only if for a few hours. With a sigh the daughter picked up the ‘red’ wool ball from the floor, she picked up the walking stick from the floor and held her mother’s arm by the elbow…” Now, now, it’s alright Ma. Don’t look so sad and angry at the same time. Let me take you to the bed. Very soon Sana will be back from the playground and I will send her to your room, then both of you can tell each other all the stories of your day.”

A big smile gently replaced the tears and frown on Revati’s face. Soon her little Sana will jump into her bed and demand “Nani, tell me a new story today”. Of course Revati would tell her little Sana a new tale, and once again with her inner world of visuals Revati will create the story book of her eternal daylight dreams and she already had a name for it…Drishti.

Adieu

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 8 Comments

Shefali

Shefali, you stand there, smiling amidst the flowers,
The petals as if to fall upon you in the gentlest shower ,
You were tender and soft as those little florets by your name,
Your smile and fragrance forever captured, in a photo frame,
You went away like a queen without any mournful noise,
Did it not hurt you Ma to hold on to that graceful poise ?
Never complaining in this long uphill journey called life ,
Living without Baba, that pain tore you with a sharp knife,
We saw pain in that dimming light in your eyes sunken deep ,
Your loneliness was yours alone in dark nights without sleep,
In my life if I could borrow a simple leaf from your love,
I will know you are blessing me from the heaven above,
Be at rest with your beloved , a place where we too shall meet,
Let this candle keep burning, awaiting a new dawn to greet.

Merry Christmas

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 7 Comments

It is Christmas and we ( Chalk and Cheese )are traveling . Not the visa , passport type travel, this one is a simple two hour flight from home. But there is nothing simple about packing, planning and processing in the life of Chalk and Cheese . For a four day holiday I packed four suitcases. Chalk frowned and asked ” Are we planning to settle there or is it only for four days?” I smiled that mysterious smile which could have had a thousand meanings. I had plans of my own to fill Santa’s sledge.

On Christmas Eve we started our journey, Chalk and Cheese argue about everything. This time we argued about whether to pre book or not , the in the flight meal. Chalk felt it is better to pick up some food from the airport or to eat a proper dinner after landing. But I was quite determined to pre book my sandwich. There is something about those Indigo sandwiches that always makes me hungry when I am flying. And there is no worse torture than to see your co passenger chomping on her sandwich ( I was sure she had a corporate ticket, she looked super stylish and confident) while I kept staring expectantly for the cabin crew’s attention for a simple glass of water. No prizes for guessing what I finally ate on board. I am Cheese , I never go hungry.

On Christmas day morning I planned to go shopping.
I was feeling quite like the Santa myself, buying gifts for everyone. Chalk doesn’t like associating with me when I get into these zones of loving and giving. He feels “love” is the biggest gift. And Cheese feels gifting is also a way of expressing love . When I start thinking like Santa I realize that the list of people whom I love are more than I can count. What a blessing indeed. I feel blessed to have family and friends with whom I can share my life. In reality, gift is just another way to tell people , ” you were in my thoughts.”

I stopped an auto and asked the auto wala bhaiya ” Gandhi Market jaoge ? ” The auto wala bhaiya gave me a blank stare! Chalk came to rescue from the back, Chalk always does. He smiled and told the man ” Bapu Bazaar jana haye, kitna lo ge ? ” That’s us, Chalk will always say the right thing, I will always mean the right thing. Chalk will always haggle and bargain, and I will never, never, do that. Chalk will patiently walk with me from store to store and keep pretending that he doesn’t care. I will always think of everyone but myself. At some point Chalk will gently.. ‘remind me to think about me’ ! We are Chalk and Cheese , very different people, but together a merry team. I like being Santa, I love giving and receiving, I love indulging in life’s little pleasures . Chalk on the other hand has always been the stoic type, but I believe that he has been my secret Santa forever . Merry Christmas from us to you .

Solitude

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 2 Comments

Solitude, you are the lone bird above, soaring high,
You are  the caged bird, desiring to reach the sky,
You are the first drop of rain, on a parched piece of land,
You are imprisoned, in an hour glass, like a grain of sand.

Solitude, you are in my mother’s eyes, waiting tirelessly for me,
You are in someone’s broken heart, weeping alone, by the sea,
You are in a little boy’s smile, when he sees the shooting star,
You are in the old man’s stride, walking homeward , very far.

Solitude, you are in the midnight silence,of a busy city street,
You are in those countless waves, thrashing at the rock’s feet,
You are in that crimson light of dawn, waking up from sleep,
You are hiding like a tiny tear drop, lost in the ocean’s deep.

Solitude, you are with a lone soldier, on guard, near the fence,
You are in a sailor’s heart, searching the shore with his lens,
You are on a poet’s mind, amongst the hills and meadows,
You are a silent prayer by the night, with a grieving widow .

Solitude, you are in the echoing chants of Gurbani, by the day,
You are in the evening azan, welcoming the evening to stay,
You are in the shlokas , flowing like music in a melodious voice,
You are sitting within the Chappell, tuning to my inward noise.

Solitude, you are in my absolute silence, you are in my chaos,
You are in my joyful reverie, you are laced with pathos,
You are in my drama, you are in my shameless fall and peak,
Solitude, you are my treasured companion, it is you I forever
seek.

এক মুঠো পলাশ

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 4 Comments

“সারা রাত দুই চোখের পাতা এক করতে পারিনাই”, এই কথাটা ছোটবেলায়  প্রাই শুনতাম আমার  দিদিমার মুখে । শুনলেই মনে হতো ‘বুড়ো মানুষ রা এমনি কথা কেনো বলে, এমন টাও হয় নাকি, নিশ্চয়ই বাড়িয়ে বলছে ।’ দিন কেটেছে, সেই দিদিমাও আর নেই, মাও আর নেই, তাই তাদের গিয়ে বলতে পারি না ‘হয় গো হয়,  ঠিক এরকম টা হয় ‘। আমি যে এখন অনেক রাত ওই দুই চোখের পাতা এক না করে কাটাই, এখন আমি বুঝি । দিদিমা না হতে পারি  কিন্তু দিদিমা হওয়ার বয়েস টা তো হয়েছে, তাই এই ব্যামো টাও অল্প অল্প শুরু হয়েছে ।

গত শনিবার পুরো রাত রাতের পাখির মতোন ড্যাব ড্যাব করে জেগে থাকলাম। সকাল হতেই  in house golfer কে বললাম, ‘আজ তোমার golf যাওয়া চলবে না।  আমাকে গাড়ি করে ড্রাইভ এ নিয়ে যেতে হবে, তারপর কোথাও ইচ্ছে হলে গাড়ি থেকে নেমে, আমরা হাঁটব, তারপর কচুরি- তরকারি ,জিলিপি আর চা  at Sharma Tea’। কেবল morning walk বললে কাজ হত কিনা জানিনা, কিন্তু ওই কচুরি জিলিপির টোপ টা কাজ করলো । তিনি একটু দোনা মনা করে রাজি হয়ে গেলেন । বেশ কিছু ক্ষণ এদিক ওদিক ঘুরে আমি বললাম ‘এবার গাড়ি থামানো হক, এখানে অনেক গাছ, আমরা একটু হাঁটি চলো’।  

চালক গাড়ি থামালেন, আগে পিছনে করে নিপুণ ভাবে পার্ক করলেন। অধৈর্য আমি গাড়ির দরজা খুলে নেমে দাঁড়ালাম, আমার ভাবটা এমন যেন ওনার কারণে সিনেমার শো মিস হয়ে যাবে। চোখের সামনে সারি সারি পলাশ গাছ তখন আমায় হাতছানি দিয়ে ডাকছে, মন বলছে দে ছুট। আমার একটা বড় দোষ আছে, আমি যখন হাঁটি হন হন করে প্রায় দৌড়বার মতন করে হাঁটি, তাই আমার সাথে কেউ হাঁটতে চায় না। দেখে মনে হতেই পারে মহিলা বাস ধরার জন্যে দৌড় দিচ্ছেন। জোরে হাঁটি বটে, কিন্তু আমার মন কবি কবি ভাব নিয়ে প্রকৃতির ধীর গতিতে  চলার আনন্দের মধ্যে ডুবতে থাকে । কত কিছু দেখার থাকে চারি পাশে। মনে মনে হারিয়ে যেতে যেতে আমি গুন গুন  করে গেয়ে উঠি , ” রূপ  সাগরে ডুব দিয়েছি অরূপ  রতন আশা করি ।” আমার পাশের মানুষ দু চার কদম পিছন পিছন আসতে থাকেন, তিনি আমার এই  sprint walking style এর সাথে নিজেকে মানিয়ে নিয়েছেন বহুকাল আগে ।

আমি অবাক চোখে দেখি , পলাশ গাছের আগুন জলা রূপ, তার উল্টো দিকে গোলাপি  সাদার গুচ্ছ গুচ্ছ ফুলে ভরা মাধবীলতার সারি , হলুদ রঙের কলকে  ফুলের ভারে নুয়ে পরা ডাল, আরো কত ফুল, যেন কেউ  অতি যত্নে সাজি সাজিয়ে অপেক্ষা করছে আমার। কলকে ফুল গুলো আমার গালে হালকা করে টোকা দিয়ে যায় যেনো । চলার পথের ধারে কত রঙের বাহার, চারিপাশে ছড়িয়ে পরে আছে অগুন্তি পলাশ।  মনে হয় আমার ওপর তাদের বড্ড অভিমান হয়েছে, এত দিন আসি নি বলে ।তাদের উজ্জ্বল কমলা  বর্ণের ফুল গুলো মাটিতে পরে ধুলো মাখা মাখি করে জানান  দিচ্ছে  আমাদের চলে যাবার দিন এসে গেছ,  বসন্ত চলে গেছে,  তুমি আসতে দেরী  করে ফেলেছ । মন টা কেমন যেন  উদাস হয়ে ওঠে আর ভাবে ‘ইশ, আর কয়েকদিন  আগে এলাম না কেনো ।’ আর ঠিক তখনই, যেন আমার  মনের  কথা বুঝে নিয়ে , মাটিতে পরে থাকা এক bougainvillea র ডাল আমায় ডাক দিয়ে, ফিক করে  হেসে বলে, ”ওমন মন খারাপ করিস না, আমাদের দিকে চেয়ে দেখ, কত রঙে  সারা বছর তোর পাশেই তো থাকি আমরা ,পাঁচিল এর গা বেয়ে উঠে তোকে দেখার জন্য অপেক্ষা করে থাকি !”  আরে  তাই তো, এই  Kagaz ke phul ( যাকে আমি মজা করে বউ gone বলে ডাকি) ও তো আমার বড় আদরের।  মায়ার টানের টানাপোড়েন , তার কি কোনো হিসাব আছে।  আমায় টানে আকাশ, আকাশের চাঁদ, তারা, সূর্য  ; আমায় টানে সমুদ্র, নদী, রঙের খেলা ; আমায় পাগল করে সবুজের নেশা, তবে কেনো পলাশ পলাশ করে কেঁদে মরি আজ। পলাশ  যেনো কোন পুরনো প্রেমিক, যার সাথে রয়ে গেছে কিছু না বলা কথা, তাই তো সে তার বুক ভরা অভিমান নিয়ে টুপ টুপ করে ঝড়ে পড়ছে।

হাঁটার  পথের এক পাশে খোলা সবুজ মাঠ , লোহার গ্রিল দিয়ে ঘেরা সেই মাঠ । সেখানে টিকিট কেটে  ঢুকতে হয়, এত ভোরে সেই টিকিট  ঘর খোলেনা, তাই মানুষ জনও আসে না। ওই গেটের মধ্যেই সবুজ মাঠের ওপারে, ছড়িয়ে  ছিটিয়ে দাঁড়িয়ে আছে seven wonders of the world, ভোরের আলোয় ঝকঝক করছে , ছোট্ট এক পৃথিবী । আমার সেখানে যাওয়া হয় নি কোনোদিন।  আমি যে wonders of the world বড়  সহজে পেয়ে  যাই আমার চার পাশে । এই ঝড়ে পরা অভিমানী পলাশ এর বুকে , কলকে ফুলের নরম ঠোঁটের আদরে , আর মন মাতানো মাধবী লতার গন্ধে, এর মধ্যেই আমার শহর,আমার পৃথিবী, আর এক রাশ ভালবাসা ।

গরম আসছে, সঙ্গে করে আনবে ঝুড়ি ভরা কৃষ্ণ চূড়ায় মাতোয়ারা নীল আকাশ ; অমলতাস এর পাগল করা হলুদ ডালের হাত ছানি ; আধ ফোটা বেলি ফুলের মালা ; আর জুঁই – জাগা রাত । এই রে, কথায় কথায় আবার রাত জাগার কথা ওঠে  কেনো আমার মনে । বেশ তো হারিয়ে  যাচ্ছিলাম মনে মনে। আমার মগ্নতার জগত থেকে ফেরাতেই বোধহয়  পিছন থেকে  golfer  ডাক দিলেন, ” এবার কি ফিরবে?”  বুঝলাম অনেকটা পথ এসে গেছি উদাসী মনে হাঁটতে হাঁটতে। জোরে হাঁটি বলে অনেক টা বেশি  হাঁটা হয়ে যায়। ‘হ্যাঁ  চলো, এবার ফেরা যাক’ বলে about turn করি আমি ।  ফেরার পথে এক মুঠো পলাশ কুড়িয়ে নেওয়ার লোভ সামলাতে পারি না , তাদের দিকে আরো কিছুক্ষণ চেয়ে থাকার লোভ । গাড়ি তে উঠেই মনে পড়ে যায় , কচুরি-তরকারি আর জিলিপির প্রতিশ্রুতি, মনে হল golfer এর মুখে দেখলাম এক টুকরো হাসি ।মন টা বড় শান্ত  হয়ে গেছিল।  রাত জাগার ক্লান্তি আমায় কষ্ট দেয় না, রাত জাগা এই আমি ফোন খুলে গান চালিয়ে দি :

“আমার ভিনদেশী তারা…তোমার আকাশ ছোঁয়া বাড়ি
আমি পাইনা ছুঁতে তোমায়, আমার একলা লাগে ভারী।”

Little Pearl

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 1 Comment

The little girl lived in the royal palace,
Playful, unnoticed, unseen.
She was a daughter of the king,
But her mother was not the queen.

Her playmates were princesses, 
Young girls of her own age,
The palace was her only home,
The courtyards her childhood’s stage.

Once upon a time, as enchantress of the ragas,
Her mother was the nightangle of the royal court.
But now fallen from grace with her lost sagas,
A favorites position she could no more afford.

In the mother’s khol black eyes,
The king had once found his peace,
Their love was her mother’s forbidden sin,
For which she wouldn’t be given a lease. 

In oblivion the little girl was growing,
Like a flower in a trusted shade,
But the thorns around her were waiting,
To tear her from her restful glade.

Long banished from the court,
Her mother now lived like a shadow,
Hiding her life behind the heavy veil

An unwed bride but now living like a widow

The king was ailing and had grown fragile,
Ministers and queens were fuming with wicked guile.
To banish the little girl, or make her a slave
The palace was filled with such whispered waves.

The mother loved the daughter,
Beyond any measure.
To the King she send her last plea,
To save her little treasure.

The girl was summoned into
The king’s private chamber,
There she stood shivering,
Her face a flushed amber.

The king placed his tender hand
Upon her small head,
A sparkle drop of tear,
Her fearful eyes had shed.

The king took a pearl string
And placed it on her palm,
His soft gentle touch
Seemed like a father’s loving balm.

“Keep this royal jewel , it is a parting gift”,
Said The King, in a quivering voice,
She stood holding the string of pearls
Not daring to make a sobbing noise.

The mother and the little girl,
Left the palace in the darkness of the night,
All the glorious years of love and leisure,
Had turned to a shameful fright.

They walked out together, 
The mother clutching onto her little girl,
A home forever lost,
But on her tiny neck,
Hanged the royal pearl.

A Beach Day

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 3 Comments

I am your beach. I have come to share my side of the story today. No, I am not mute or dead. I am alive, I live by your side everyday, waiting for you, rejoicing with you, yet you do not know me.  When you walk on my sands and sing your favourite songs , I want to sing along with you. When the lovers sitting together gaze out into the sea, I become one in their togetherness. I witness all the love stories and the heart breaks you unknowingly share with me . You are not alone when you feel sad and lonely, walking in a melancholic mood; I try to tickle your feet with my slippery sand, just to bring a smile on your lips. Yes, you do not recognize me ever, but your tears, smile, laughter, talk, stay back with me forever. And in the darkness of the night, when everyone goes back home, I bring out my precious shells and within its heart I transfer all your secrets and toss the shells back into the ocean, to stay there forgotten, forever.

Hey, let me sway the pensive mood to something more interesting. Allow me to tell you my experiences, secrets and stories. But you have to promise me that whatever I share with you today will stay “tere mere beech mein”. No spreading beach rumours around the town. Let this be our secret pact, to be beach buddies.  

I will share a secret which no one knows. We, the beaches all around the earth stay connected. We know what goes on where. We have our own network system of communication. Take the sand for example, they are such big travelers!  And while sand travels, they carry tales from one beach to the other. The deep secrets and gossips of the thrashing waves brings us news from every ocean far and wide. And the unending canopy of the sky, reflects all our emotions. We just need to look up to the sky, our messenger! 

Holidays and Sundays people rush out to spend a day on the beach. They come in big groups and small, the families with their umbrellas, towels ,music, and their noisy children. Oh, these children, though I love them the most, but they keep digging at my heart. Why do they have to carry their little shovels, buckets and start digging out my sand ? I know it is a game for them, but it hurts. And what is this craze to build these sand castles on the beach? I just do not understand. If you ask me frankly, none of them look like a castle to me. But what do I know of castles, I am just a beach, waiting to be washed back again and again into the sea.

Have you seen the beaches in Goa? Oh, you must have, they are so famous all over the world. I hear that Goa beaches are always in a party mood, how lucky are they, seeing all the tourists, excitement, and partying every single day. Some say that the Goa beaches do not sleep at night. It could be a rumour,  I am not sure. Stories of the Goan beaches sometimes makes me a little envious. But being a beach has its advantages, feelings don’t last for long. Envy, joy, sadness, no matter whatever is the emotion, the sea comes and washes it all away. Leaving the beach sparkling clean, ready for a new day, always. 

The white sand beaches of Miami, Maldives, Railay and so many other exotic foreign locations, are beautiful no doubt but they are also the naughty beaches of our clan. How easily they flirt with the bikini clad pretty women and gorgeous looking men, lying whole day on the beaches half clothed,  making the warm sand sizzling hot with their presence!  I have also heard scandalous tales of these people covering themselves fully with sand, what a sight it must be. But it is okay, I am not very flirtatious by nature. On the contrary, I have a little religious bend of mind. What with all the Gods and Goddesses being immersed in the sea round the year, my beach mentality gets a little influenced. My tolerance and patience levels are better than many other beaches that I know of. 

I think you have guessed by now, I am your amchi Mumbai beach. I love being the beach of Mumbai. Like a mother I have seen Mumbai grow around my beaches over the years. But somedays I get tired of this burden of population. I long for those clean, wide, shinning sandy beaches of Mumbai from the past. Now, when people cover every inch of my sand on a Sunday evening, I feel like screaming out for some air. They come in hoards,  they trample me, they suffocate me, they throw around their empty bottles and packets on my face. After their merry making they go back into their city lanes. In that darkness of the night , I stand alone, crying tears of pain. I wait for the sea to come, to wash me clean, all over again.  But for how long will the sea engulf your discarded load. The sea is getting choked every day. I stand silent and helpless watching the sea changing it’s colour,  turning a shade of grey darker day by day. 

Tomorrow again the sea will come to wash me clean. I will wait for you once again to come and spread your happiness in every grain of my sand. I do not want to be a lonely, lost beach on an island, far away in the middle of an ocean. I want to be with you, in this city of yours. I want to hear you talk, I want to tell you my endless stories, to watch sunsets  with you and your grandchildren. For that beautiful future together, let us pledge to take care of each other forever.

Void Within

/ sangeeta_chakladar / 2 Comments

When there is a void within,
No happy thoughts can knock.
When there is a void within,
Every smile seems to mock.
When there is a void within,
Roads neither meet nor cross.
When there is a void within,
All thoughts drown in pathos.
When there is a void within,
No garden bloom looks blushed.
When there is a void within,
Voices around are softly hushed.
When there is a void within,
Music brings melancholic tears.
When there is a void within,
Eyes brim with untold fears.
When there is a void within,
Sunshine does not touch.
When there is a void within,
Vision blurs in raindrop’s smudge.

Wake up and fill your void,
With purpose and delight,
Wake up and fill your void,
With the maker’s glorious light.

When there is a void within,
Seek another lonely soul.
When there is a void within,
To bring a smile, be your goal.
When there is a void within,
Fill it up with faith and trust.
When there is a void within,
Stand stoic against wind’s gust.
When there is a void within,
Flow like the river flows.
When there is a void within,
Grow like a tiny grass grows.
When there is a void within,
Sit with a child at play,
When there is a void within,
Splash the canvas with color’s spray.
When there is a void within,
Travel like the winds from desert to sea,
When there is a void within,
Let your soul soar high and set all chains free.