it found me

In the dusty bookshelf of a rare old bookshop, while looking for books on baking, Italian cooking, quick-prep dinner recipes and Jamie Oliver food porn, the most beautifully illustrated book of Rumi poetry lay waiting for me.

Maybe it found me.
Or I was ready to find it.

In a home store filled with soft towels, out of fashion shoes, peach colored scarves, stainless steel spoons and lavender-aloe vera shampoos, I found the indigo dress that fits perfect.

May be it found me.
Or I was ready to find it.

Among the dozens of poems written on love: requited, unrequited, young, innocent or simply benign, I found the one that would be perfect as an epitaph, to be read at the loss of a confidante.

May be it found me.
Or I was ready to find it.

I looked very hard for a poem to capture this week’s rendering, anything that captured adulthood, independence, sacrifice, struggle; I found the one on food.

May be it found me.
Or I was ready to find it.

I have flipped the pages of this book of poems by the great masters many times before.  There is one that I never read beyond the first line,  moving to the next and then the next.  Today I found it perfect, resonating with what I feel today.

It found me.
Today, I was ready to let it find me.

Sitaroan ke Aage By Iqbal

Transliteration

Tu Shaahi ha parvaaz hai kaam tera
tere samney aasmaan aur bhi hai
Isee roz-o-shab mein ulajhkar na reh ja
ki terey zameen-o-makaan aur bhee hai
Sitaaroan se aage jahaan aur bhi hai
abhee ishq ke imtehaan aur bhee hai

Translation by Khushwant Singh

You are a falcon, it is in your nature to fly
For you there are skies beyond this sky
Don’t let the web of dawns and dusks enmesh you
for you have other lives, other goals to pursue
Beyond these stars are worlds yet to unearth
there are more trials of love to test your worth