Tag Archives: loss

The Price


It starts as an innocent pursuit, a humble desire akin to a butterfly in its cocoon, small and vulnerable.

Affirmations act like the morning sun, small victories like spring water, and hope as fresh air.

Riding on a wave of dreams and aspirations, each obstacle seems like a chance to prove your mettle and every challenge a moment to rise above the rest.

Seldom is the price of dreams calculated, rarely are the consequences of this journey explained.
What we inherit is the glimmer of hope and the promise of glory.

And then suddenly you find yourself asking, “How did I get here?”

facts-about-hope

 

Etiraaf
by Javed Akhtar

Transliteration

Sach to ye hai kasoor apna hai
chand ko choone ki tamanna ki
aasmaan ko zameen par manga
phool chaha ke pattharon pe khile
kaanton me ki talaash khushboo ki
aag se maangte rahe thandak
barf me dhoondte rahe garmi
khwab jo dekha chaha ke sach ho jaye
iski humko saza to milni thi
sach to ye hai kasoor apna hai

Translation

Truth is that the blame is our own
A desire to touch the moon
Asking for the sky on earth
We wanted flowers to bloom from a rock
Looked for fragrance within thorns
Kept wanting for coolness from fire
In ice we looked for warmth
The dreams we saw we hoped they became reality
We had to recieve punishment

Truth is that the blame is our own.

cocoon

If you like this, you may also like: Zakhm.

Vacuums


On a day filled with warm chai and hearty laughter, a day which extends its arms into the night right past midnight and into the wee hours of the next; you find yourself happy and exhausted with all the smiles, hugs, pranks and secrets shared.

Why then does it creep up on you like a dark cloud?

It would fit right on a lonely, event less, cold rainy day, with nobody around to swap stories with or share that samosa with.

Why at the end of a boisterous day like this you ask?

Some part of the mind has unexpectedly wandered off, thinking of those who might have been here right now, sipping that lal chai sold behind the railway station under the lamppost in the wee hours of the night.  Driving aimlessly in silence, listening to rain fall on the roof of the car on a deserted highway, they would have breathed in that moment with you.

Why imagine this when surrounded by loud music, bright lights and cheerful laughter?

Some who have moved away,
Some you have pushed away,
Some who are unaware how much they are missed &
Some who can’t, even if they want to.
Many reasons, same vacuum.

This week’s poem encompassing the emotion of longing and vacuums, is an ode from Gulzar to his friend Pancham. R D Burman the composer and Gulzar the writer.

The emotions in his lines written for his beloved friend swept me away. How simple the words, how haunting the imagery and how deep the hurt at the loss of a soulmate.

Capturing the hurt and loss of a friend, a vacantness that is never going to be filled, are his words in this poem called: Pancham.

Transliteration

Pancham

Yaad hai baarishon ka din Pancham,
Jab pahadi ke neeche waadi mein
dhundh se jhaank kar nikalti hui
rail ki patriyaan guzarti thi.

dhundh mein aise lag rahe the hum ,
jaise do paudhe saath baithe ho
hum bahut der tak wahan baithe
us musaafir ka zikr karte rahe
jisko aana tha pichle shab lekin ,
jiske aumad ka waqt talta raha.

der tak patriyon par baithe hue
Train ka intezaar karte rahe
Train aayi na uska waqt hua ,
aur tum yun hi do kadam chalkar
dhundh par paanv rakh ke chal bhi diye

Main akela hoon dhundh mein pancham……

Translation
by Pavan Verma

Pancham, you remember
those monsoon days,
when in the valley below the mountains,
rail tracks made their way
emerging out of the mist…

And in the mist we appeared
like two saplings planted together
We sat there for eternity
Talking about the traveler
Who was to have traveled the night before,
But never did.

For long we sat on the tracks
Waiting for the train to come
The train arrived though it wasn’t its time
But you simply walked a few steps, into the mist, and melted away.

I remain here alone in that mist, Pancham.