Thursday, June 21, 2012

Perfect Moment

Describing the perfection of the moment might end up making it imperfect but I cannot commit the sin of not sharing its beauty with you. The sky is in all its glory, birds have decided to celebrate the last ray of light and bid adieu to the sun. The dry leaves under my feet create music which was never heard before and shall never be repeated. I can for the first time in many years hear the sound of my own breath and one by one my thoughts leave me to solace as even they do not want to ruin the perfection of the moment. Time has stood still in this jungle. Everything is quiet. And suddenly out of nowhere, despite my desperate efforts a thought invades the solitude and reminds me of you. I shake my head hard enough to introduce an element of violence in the serenity of the forest. But the thought of you—what you would have said, what tune you would have hummed, or how your eyes on me would have felt—refuses to leave me. I decide against fighting the thought of you as I realize having a part of you, here, with me, has made the moment perfect.

कुछ आवाजें हैं जो मैं अपने साथ संजों के लाना चाहती थी,
थमी नदी के चारों ओर चहेकते पंछियों की
सूखे पत्तों पर मेरे क़दमों की
अपनी हीं साँसों की
अपनी मंदमंद मुस्कुराहट की
छत पर कुदते लंगूरों की
कुछ आवाजें हैं जो मैं वहीँ भूल आयीं हूँ|

Friday, June 15, 2012

That Night

I don’t remember for how long I slept or whether I slept at all. I kept waking up with a jerk. It did not take me long to come out of slumber. I would be wide awake and distressed instantly. I would force my eyes to adjust to the dim light as soon as possible and then, I would stare at you.

I would look at your bald head and then at your eyes. I was searching for some sign of life. Your eyes had become deep black holes set in your skull. The nose looked much bigger than before and was marked with big black spots. I clearly remember, your mouth would be open and I would strain my ears to listen to the sound of your snores. The only sound in the room in the dead of the night would be that of the fan which would be running at an excruciatingly low speed.

I would panic. Tears would sting my eyes. You know, I fought the urge to break down several times that night. After the first wave of panic, I would steady myself and stare at your chest; hoping that the movement of your breasts would lay my fears to rest.  But you had reduced to bones and most of the times I could not detect  any movement and my heart would start racing, again.

Then I would close my eyes and take a deep breath. I did that a lot that night. I would concentrate all my energies into observing your stomach. Its slow and rhythmic rise and fall would relax me immediately. My shoulders would drop. I would stretch and yawn and go back to sleep to wake up again in five minutes and repeat the exercise.

That was a year ago. But I still wake up sometimes, you know. You are better now. I know. You have a curly mop of hair on your head. But that frail bald woman who smiled through all the suffering of battling cancer still comes to see me sometimes. I love her but I’m very scared of her at the same time.

वो रात मैंने तेरी हर साँस गिन गिन गुज़ारी थी
हर गिनती पे मेरी साँस अटकी थी 
आज हर साँस की कीमत मुझे मालूम है|