Have you ever had a small little itch on that unreachable spot on your back that you fingers just cant reach? Its a sweet little itch that just needs to be satiated by a quick movement of fingers, a devious little chivvy that needs to be fed instantly irrespective of it being inaccessible.
Just at that moment, do you have someone next to you, who you unabashedly ask to reach out and put that fire out on your back? Ask them to help scratch that sweet spot and put you out of your misery?
When you put on that dress with buttons at the back or a zipper as long as a river, do you walk into the next room and have someone zip you up, saving you all the circus you would have had to perform getting the hooks to hinge into the right loops?
Or when eating your meal, made sumptuous with your favorite pickle, at the end when just a few morsels are left, do you reach out into the plate of that someone and borrow a little pickle to save you a trip back into the cabinet?
Do you find sometimes that after your desk has been cleaned (despite your protests), when you reach out for a pencil, you find that all your blunt pencils have been sharpened and lined up, ready to write and scribble?
In between a slow sluggish weekday, after cleaning up, stacking all the vessels and finishing a meal of leftovers, to brighten up your night, almost magically 2 rich dark chocolate ice-cream bars lie in the deep freeze waiting for you to discover them.
Does someone volunteer to hold the heavier bag, serve you the bigger piece of fish, drive the car when your shoulder aches, or is standing there to pick you up from late night dance sessions, even without being asked?
The insignificantly small, most often taken for granted, deeply missed when gone, and tremendously significant forms of love…..
This week’s poem is by a woman poet, Parveen Shakir. She talks of subtle love and its nuances and of the embrace that is omnipresent.
Chehra mera tha nigahen us ki
Khamushi main bhi wo baten us ki,
The face was mine, the eyes his
Even in silence the words were his
Mere chehre pe gazal likhti gaiee
Sher kahti hui ankhen us ki,
On my face poetry was penned
By the couplets narrated by his eyes
Shokh lamhon ka pata dene lagin
Tez hoti hui sansen us ki,
The existence of naughty moments
Was revealed by the increasing pace of his breath
Aise mausam bhi guzaare ham ne
Subhen jab apni thi shamain us ki,
Such seasons too have I seen
When mornings were mine but evening his have been
Faisala mauj-e-hawa ne likkha
Andhiyan meri baharen us ki,
The trance filled winds decreed
The high winds are mine and the springs are his
Nind is soch se tuti aksar
Kis tarah kattati hain ratien us ki.
Often startled I awake from my sleep
Wondering how this night passes for him.
Dur rah kar bhi sada rahti hai
Mujh ko thame hue bahen us ki.