“Mine” 

I wasn’t unfamiliar with that silence! I could lounge in its warmth and dawdle in its chill! His careful whispers would startle my ears. He’d blow softly on the window glass and I’d gently move my finger on that fog to write the first alphabets of our names. And he’d  flash his rare smile, it would make my day! 

Never did we walk holding hands, for he felt his love was greater than possession. We’d walk to the scandal delights on the Mall, and I’d gaze at him in that balmy evening, in those dim lights among those unfamiliar faces and those colourful bottles of wine. He was a sort who would order tea in the bar and endlessly scribble on his notepad.

  Don’t drink beyond your capacity, we have a long way to go!” He’d say to me, and I would care less, for nothing could blitzed me any further! What his tea did to him, his presence did to me! 

And the night would be silent again, so silent that I could hear the breeze whispering to the leaves and fondling the pages of his notepad. I’d advance towards the window, to shut ourselves close to the world outside, for I was selfish to have him for myself, for a while! 

He’d open the window to let the moonlight flood our abode, and we’d sit beside the window, making patterns in the star studded sky. And I’d put my selfishness to bed; every minute and second, in every breath I took and every step I walked, he has been mine. 

Advertisements

Grieving hopes…

The ghastly silent dawn would draw me closer to the window, 

Where I’d sit for hours sipping the hot joe.

Waiting for him to finish building castles in the clouds 

flying rockets and Inspecting planets around.

With his tiny feet he’d come running to me

Rubbing his eyes as if it was still too early!

He’d jump in my lap and close his eyes,

For a little more than a while.

That warmth would fill my chasm,

And I’d pull him even closer to my bosom.

And then his echoing footsteps in the bare room

Would wake me up only to worsen my gloom!

My barren body would plunge like a dagger in his back 

His gloom would deepen but I’ll always have his back!

The balmy days would receive us with a frown,

Our lukewarm glances would weaken us down. 

The file started to gather dust,

Stronger and staunch grew our mistrust.

We’ve draped the sombre dawns such, 

Because sometimes you can’t fight the destiny’s clutch!

Picture credits: tumblr.

The walk….

His silence cast a spell on me, sloshed me in ways no alcohol could!

Black” he said, was his favourite colour!

And those cold nights in the blue hills, his silence kept me warm!

There were times when he spoke, as if he had perfected the art of speaking! We took the long walks among the silent pines of charabara forest, that echoed with his shayari’s! And it seemed the birds too joined the feat!

He would tell me tales about the haunted dhukani house, and I would drape my shawl more tightly, that was the time he would put his hand on my shoulder, that was the only physical touch we had, and it kept me warm till we would reach our abode! 

He’d ask me to feel the fragrance of the mud, freshly wetted by the elixir that God poured from above ; it would sedate my body and soul, and he’d say he felt the same for me!

Those were rare moments when he’d confess his love to me! But I never craved for more.

We’d savour the misty mornings with a cup of creamy hot tea. His fingers would flatter my tresses, I’d feel his tips caressing my nape, and that would startle me! There would be but us, the sky, the hills, the muddy aroma, his poetry and that sonorous silence!

I turned the pages of his jotted reveries and this tugged at my heartstrings……

“Jab do logon ke darmiyan khamoshi aaramdeh ho, 
Jan jao ki tumhe jis pyar ki talash thi weh talaash ab khatm hui !”

Kaleidoscope of senses! 

I hear a thousand leaves fluttering as the wind blows them a kiss,

And the fallen leaves performing the same feat!

The earth’s tears make many people feel lighter! 

I see the flowers and feel earth exploding in laughter.

I see vivid emotions in the Hued sky,

And the silhouetted hills with a welcoming smile.

I hear the pages turning by themselves,

On the young writers desk.

I go closer and see the empty pages, 

‘Coz ahead of him still the whole life is waiting.

I see the sun always by the moon’s side,

Brings it to frame though it can easily outshine. 

Makes it shine much brighter as darkness falls.

That’s a love I desire for all!

I see the ripe fields swinging with a smile,

And the harversted ones standing upright.

Yes, because of the pride,

As they’ve given us the best they could provide! 

I like the raindrops racing on the window,  they compete without any fight! 

I Feel the damp window as if some goblin cried there all night!

The witches with brooms and the fairies with their wands 

I believe in the magic and the haunts! 

I taste a different world and love its bits,

It fills my voids and to it I proudly submit! 

©Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava ✨

http://instagram.com/rajiv_srivastava📸

Her summertime sorrow…

 

The sun was slouching in the sky as if not yet prepared to embrace the moon, while she dribbled saline on her cushion every night, thinking about her own moon! 

She could feel the summer surging up and high, she knew there won’t be any blankets now to pull over her face and cry. 

So instead she thought of celebrating her lament, somewhere where she could sit with patience.

She went to the park, saw the aged and the young, and breathed some freshness to her lungs!

Some proudly draped their sorrows , some accustomed to their wounds, many lost their youth but never did they frown! 

They all had voids that eventually got filled, some had lost everything but their benevolence wasn’t killed! 

She realised however late, that her void is equally great.

Well, it was only the distance that could be bridged, not a separation that was hard to be abridged.

So she sat for the test, vented her inability in words, promising herself to stay strong, and now it no more hurts! 


✨Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava ✨

👉🏻http://instagram.com/rajiv_srivastava

👉🏻www.imazinindia.com/rajiv srivastava 

Accepting “CHANGE”

Freeing myself from colours of modernity,

Where being blessed is to have monetary security.

I have lived a life so lavish 

But I still find peace on the bank of Ganges.

Where the mild wind plays with the chimes

I haven’t come across any better rhyme.

Where people find their niche in the faux air,

But return home with that routine despair.

“Throwback” to the days when “love” was not just a word.

It wasn’t said too much but was always enough! 

When fingers tasted whits and gobs of the paperbacks piled,

When travelling the world was wandering in the library aisle.

When finding someone unspoilt by conceit was not hard,

Subtle hints fostered fondness and fleshy lust was dismally regard.

Away from the tasty morsels of make believe, here  I am 

Absorbing the reality as much as I can.

Change is the spice of life they say!

I believe too, but not always.

Times when brothels echoed with sonorating anklets of devadasis,

Where now eunuchs rock to and fro till their orientation bleeds.

When people took dip in holy waters to free themselves from sins 

And now, drenched in elixir they openly sin! 

I have tasted transition; from morals to modernity,

And so I find solace in the sagacious company! 

Some accept change easily, while some are hurt,

But remember, flowers grow only through dirt! 

In the quest to live forever..

Golden waters kiss my bare feet when I stand on the last step on the bank of Bhagirathi,

Though scared of the depth, I find myself embosomed as I step deeper, I find myself so free.

The dip and chanting shlokas purifies the soul, a beginning of uniting me with thee…

I feel the urge to leave my body or is it my body that urges to leave me? 

I return on the bank the very evening with the lamps lit in pure ghee..

Offering those to the river so they reach the deceased souls, brightening up their journey to immortality.

I forget not, to put one lamp near the tatty hut, that has been there for centuries…

Where in the disgusted disguise, live my lord thee

I listen to the song offering that reaches even the dead ears, filling them with tranquility. 

Their paths are lighted and their journey made so easy. 

Death a mourning for the living and a celebration for the deceased. 

Such is thy love that pulls me to thee.

I walk towards where the pyres hiss and spit orange embers into the night so inky. 

And nothing more beautiful than that could ever be. 

Feel detached from the flesh and blood, it no longer soothes me….

The nightingale mourns the eyes that lick those well served lies about humanity, 

And I strip off the lies that skin me, to unite with thee. 

Burning on the bank, mixing with the sand, immersing in the Bhagirathi 

I have been dead for ages and now is the journey towards immortality. 

I have battled in hell and rested in heaven  I ponder how enchanting would our meeting place be. 

Reverend than the sun rays, warmer than the bonfire, brighter than the yellow roses and higher than the orgasmic heights, with thee I will lie in peace. 

Picture credits: Rajiv Srivastava 

http://instagram.com/rajiv_srivastava

imazinindia03@gmail.com