It's the time to love......

Valentine's day is again round the corner, and as I was in the line collecting my tickets for the movie, the girl before me exclaimed to her friends, " Ei dekh dekh, aj propose day te ki message likheche!!" And all her friends hovered around her, over giggles and titters! The effects of our man -made Cupid- not bad really, love any day is better than war !!!
And I love love stories !
I like people who give me stories! But not the stories that we read everyday - break ups and affairs and mundane marriages. But something that happens in a tangent like the breaking-the -stereotype marriage that I attended a few months back- a young boy marrying an older girl with a son. I quite marveled at their courage and for breaking the odds and the great societal barrier!
Amrita Pritam and Sahir :) and their unfinished love story , till she met Imroz, again much younger than her !
I will meet you yet again

How and where? I know not.
Perhaps I will become a
figment of your imagination
and maybe, spreading myself
in a mysterious line
on your canvas,
I will keep gazing at you.

Perhaps I will become a ray
of sunshine, to be
embraced by your colours.
I will paint myself on your canvas
I know not how and where –
but I will meet you for sure.

Maybe I will turn into a spring,
and rub the foaming
drops of water on your body,
and rest my coolness on
your burning chest.
I know nothing else
but that this life
will walk along with me.

When the body perishes,
all perishes;
but the threads of memory
are woven with enduring specks.
I will pick these particles,
weave the threads,
and I will meet you yet again.

-Amrita Pritam.

(Translated by Nirupama Dutt and published in The Little Magazine2005)

Comments

Being an eagle mum!

I always told this story to my trainees. About being the Eagle mum. An eagle mum prepares the nest in two layers, first downy feathers and below that,the thorns. When it is time to fly she removes the downy feathers so that the fledglings who refuse to fly fall on the thorns and that makes them flap n fly away! Bhaskar always calls is cruelty, the bojjat mommy! But to me its a way to push one out of the comfort zone, for the world waits beyond! My kiddos moved out to their own place today. And despite being an eagle mum, I kind of miss the chatter. I knew in my heart I would miss having them around... But they need to find their wings!

Spirit!

It was a moonlit night and quiet. Just the sort when you imagine leaves rustling, someone walking top toe ... But there was no sound except an owl hooting from far away. The silence, after the city noise was unnatural. And she heard someone calling her name in a whisper! Startled she looked around. The door was closed, so who could be there? The candle flickered and a whiff of cold air entered the room. Was someone outside the window? Or is it shadow. She flashed the mobile torch in that direction! The owl hooted. Someone was banging the door! - Memsaaab! memsaab. Dinner lag gaya. A jaiye! She jumped up! The lights were on! Selected ghost stories was opened next to her and she had dozed off! Relief. She opened the door. - Aiye memsaab! Par aapke room me koi aya tha? Dekhite joote ki nishani. Indeed dusty shoe marks on the mat! But do ghosts wear shoes?

The road may be narrow and dark

This write up came back with a note of regret – for not being able to make to the next round in the competition, to the editor's table. Well, this is the first time I competed , that is if I do not count the House Competition essay writing, where I came second after Champa. Actually I do not why I took part – chance, curiosity or plain gambling …..because writing for me has always been a catharsis – an expression that I can share …..So no regrets , really! The road may be narrow and dark…….. It was 1983 and life with Baba always veered on the unexpected and the adventurous. Like that road trip from Kolkata to Delhi via Agra. We had this faithful Ambassador that took us on this journey with Baba at the helm and our cleaner Kalipada as his first assistant. I was the official navigator and Giri uncle, my father’s friend, in charge of our ummm, let’s say security, since me and my cousin Dimpi, both all of 18, needed an escort , officially. Baba always liked the un-tr

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