The land of Metaphors

Oh welcome! After so long, finally you got the time to arrive here and hear my plaints of grief and loss!

Daikh kar pooch liya haal mera                                                                                          Chalo kuch to khayal kartey ho…

As you sit by me here, on turning around do you observe these taciturn, sapphire mountains entwined by the silver becks, do you feel the hazy gusts,  blowing from the Peer Panchal ranges ( so many names and legends), slashing at your faces, do you hear its agonized sighs, aimlessly wafting around in the troubled air. These lofty, Himalayan peaks, that silently witness the turbulence in their folds, are tired of heralding the legends and tales that once marked this happy valley;

Lot jaati hai idhar ko bhi nazar kya kijiye                     
Ab bhi dil-kash hai tera husnn, magar kya kijiye

They say I have a legendary provenance, so my children do you now contrive for me a hostile end? You will hear of the names and legends from every corner, every bend, if only you all listen! My dense and lush meadows, the azure lakes, that once were mirrors, the numinous springs, the tuneful falls, the deep woods, that echo the verses of the saints who loved them so much, and the sanctified Vitesta, that you also call Jhelum  (so many names and legends, I tell you), it was a revered flow of harmony to exorcize evils, though profaned now, and as I look, I can’t help but weep, drowning my own existence, yet being a mother, I designed that haven on Taqt-i-sulemaan for you (so many names and legends). The H’ari parbat (so many names and legends) bears the testimony, that I welcomed every faith with open arms, generation after generation, I epitomized composite cultures and rich traditions (some have put that in records too, for which God be praised!), and those kings that made me proud, such spirits they breathed in my burly arms, that for centuries together you had them as celebrated legends, that was a time!  And I remember having taught the sages and pupils from across the borders, long back. The saints who practiced penances in my entrenched caves, holding my hands, how they travelled and prayed, and blessed me as well and may be that is why I am still alive, with my tulips and roses and Chinars and embers.  And did you learn of those tales about the women, they were not just women, they were pious souls, who loved to divulge all their sufferings to me, although they never complained openly. I remember the poets of their lands, and their verses in that language of peculiar vowel intonation, that no other language has. But peace is a harbinger for inexplicable turbulence and I always apprehended that. My anxiety made me to weep, and bawl each time, and there were times when my tears dried up, I was too tired to cry, my parched body, and the cracked crust, huh! You ask me what makes me sob now:

Shaher-e-dil mai ye udaasiya’n kaisi                                                                           Ye bhi mujh se sawaal kartey ho?

But it is not the anxiety that makes me weep anymore. I feel forlorn and sad now. How did you allow others to drive a wedge between you all, why did you part your ways, are you not ashamed of the segregations? Has the festival of unity declined? Have I lost my healing touch? So, I am not surprised by any sell-outs now. After blazing the shrines afire, you attempt to murder me too, I am not surprised!

Dil ki takleef kam nahi’n kartey                                                                                   Ab koi shikwah hum nahi’n kartey

My clammy soil smells of blood, now my waterfalls are turbid with ruby clots. Only I know how I had to enshroud slaughtered hearts, fractured bones, and carcasses with marks of slugs, such blood bathed carnage of innocence! I ask you, has anybody tied the threads at the shrines for peace lately? Will you all let the names and legends die? All seasons look plain to me, for you do not welcome transitions now, hence I weep in every season. I had cradled you in my lap, humming the melody of morality and now, I see you decorating the hearse for me; is this something to see, that with the fading breaths of mother, how the children rejoice! After silently witnessing this profanity for near about a century should I not cry now? Your reflections have rendered my tears murky and I feel helpless.

Muntazir merey zawaal ke hain                                                                                     Merey apney bhi kamaal ke hain

With my shroud will you bestow the honour of martyrdom upon me, or is that too much to ask from you. I was called Satisar once, the world calls me paradise on earth, I am the land of Sufis and Saints, and with each name I baste a legend, because with each name, I am subjected to a new ordeal since centuries, and I still have the strength to endure, for I lead by example. Every corner in me, has a name stitched to a legend and has a story to narrate, I am that legend no one can disclaim, and all my names are no longer names, they are the metaphors, yes -the extended metaphors, that bespeak the beauty, humility, gratitude, humanity, love, unity and peace garnered by me, and then divisions, trials, torments, strife, pain, loss, endurance, fortitude and tenacity impelled upon me. With every martyr touch, I am martyred again, and my arm though frail now, will yet embrace the destiny; see how, each time I burn and rise again from my own ashes like the phoenix. Thus, I am the morose but proud land of metaphors, not just in legends but in history, for I am kashyapmar (ka-shimeera), I am the Kaspeiria, I am KaShi-Mi-Lo, I am Cashmere, I am kasheer, I am Kashmir:Yes- I am Kashmir…..

The day we were born

Blowing off the flame of my yet another precious year, I slash asunder a piece of my ecstasy from the rest of my life, organically manifest by the cutting of this three-tiered chocolate cake, amidst the resounding claps of the people flocked around me in this large festooned hall. The guests come up to hug me, shake hands with me and invariably smother me with expensive and lavish gifts, congratulating me on my birthday as they say. Letting out a wistful sigh, I try braving up a genial smile, in the depths acknowledging my own endurance, having crossed another year of trouble, agony and pain; perhaps the most difficult year of my life would be history now.  The sickly sweet gathering of guests, busy in pompous show of their accessories, with none clad in anything less than a classy brand from head to heels, the rush of the waiters carrying the platters of exotic savouries, the flashing chromatic lights on the floor, the pulsation of the loud music, the fancy buntings adorning the vibrant ramparts, the glittery optical fibers, embellishing the giant pillars and palisades of stairways in the hall and the constant natters of the crowd, cannot be a pleasure to the heart that craves for solitude, longing to be left alone- entirely alone!                                                                                                                          Tired of floundering from one place to another, deprived of the inner peace, on my birthday, today I decide to give myself the gift of solitude or rather loneliness. Nudging my way out through the crowd, I with difficulty manage to get out of the crowded hall, into the adjacent balcony. And here I am- out of the profligate clique of people, now finally alone, with the blazing sun, which is preparing to sleep in the lap of night. The scarlet ball, painting the canvas of horizon with chromatic shades of red, is allegorical to the oblivious carnage of hearts. I breathe in the fresh air, as the placid breeze gently blows against my cheeks, wafting some message, in a muffled tone that perhaps will never reach my ears. I observe the stretch of swaying grass in the verdant field before my eyes, as if acclaiming my presence after such a long time, weaving the ambience of inexplicable delight blend with remorseful despondency, drifting my senses in the state of awe.
The natural aura, lingering in the air around me, has the similar semblance of that bright evening when my eyes first caught your sight, and now as the curve of my lips widen on recalling those memories, symbolic of a smile, is not because I am happy standing out here alone, but because this loneliness has still reserved for me the right to reminisce and inspirit our treasured memories, that lure me into that dear old game, where I still lose in spite of a win, hence today, is such a day that marks your absence for my realization.
Just a year ago, on this day you were standing by my side, nostalgically counting on our promises, errors, reconciliations and happy moments, although since we first met, every time it was I, who had to remind you of my birthday, as your presence was my best gift for this day. It is really funny to see how fate can change the entire pace of life, not only perceptions but dimensions of the life as well; and therefore, I soon found myself wretched in just a night. It was like a steaming volcano that finally erupted to destroy the beautiful city in its fold, without any warnings and the next day-it was all desolation!

Abaadi bhi dekhi hai, veerani bhi dekhi hai                                                                  Jo ujdhey aur phir na bassey dil voh nirali basti hai

I regret not our estrangement now, but my insensibility to foist you in the realm of dilemma, from where even I could never return. I now have discerned that signing some stamped documents in emerald ink can finish the bonds but never the feelings that garner those bonds. So yearning for the impossible, all that I have been doing since a year is befooling my heart and ironically my heart has grown sensible enough to understand that it is being fooled by me, but for how long! Lolling my body over the banisters edging the balcony, I contemplate that how a rose, so alluring to the heart that loves it so much, can hurtfully prick the fingers on being plucked out in oblivion. Why do the intangible feelings, that unite the minds after being blindly bonded, later on allow the prudent minds to question over and again, after pushing the sublime souls in an abyss? And as only the rational minds are left to recuperate the wounded hearts, they work in to diminish the abstract feelings to nothingness.
How I recall, each year you always forgot my birthday but I remembered your birthday, yet you kept on proving the sublimity of our bonding by celebrating everyday with me like a birthday; like our special days. Honestly, I never expected you to remember my birthdays, for I was not so touchy about it, nor did you ever ask me to celebrate your birthday, (Though, I would always pop up at your place with a cake) because somewhere deep down, we both knew, that our love rose above the superficiality of the “days” and the “formalities” that followed, rather it rested on the foundation of a committed feeling of concern towards each other. But when a dream made of glass is broken, whom do we blame- fate, circumstances, void in compliancy, etc, etc; hence, every celebration down the lane of memories is ransacked to a street of desolation, spared only with the cracked windows of pain, the empty cupboards of grief, and the smashed doors of separation.
Enviably the sun never sets alone; for the night will console it and comfort it in its lap- but the expanse of darkness, after the sunset, corroborates the proof of the emptiness that the sky will be impelled to gasp. Although the clouds do not enfold the sky this evening, thus apparently the sky must be smiling as it silently witness the sun leaving its country, but this never means that the sky is not lamenting the separation- The sky must have been tired of crying every evening, just like me. The sky has realized that excessive tears bring only floods and devastations that harm those around us; hence we put up a brave and warm smile that at least will not harm anyone, even if it annihilates us from within. This smile, not only epitomizes the level attained after such an arduous struggle, with which I have reconciled as any other normal occurrence, like the sunset, but also anything below this level will be sheer insult to the degree of our grief, loss and parting.

Ujaaley apni yaado’n ke humarey paas rehne do                                                         Na jaane kis galli mai zindagi ki shaam ho jaaye…..

After you parted your ways with me, many people of great calibre extended hands to hold you firmly, I felt like some queer creature, which on being exiled, had to harmonize with the veneer of the other world. And in this exile, a crowd of familiar faces appear strange to me; so I can’t be consoled now and I am at peace to know, that this strangeness with the outside world will drive me nearer to my inner self. For some time, now I have been looking for the rainbow you gifted me with- the miracle of that rainbow; in one instant cry, bawl, weep, and shout, the next instant smile, smirk, and sigh! The sands of our memories, is gradually shifting loose and may be the tide of time will wash it away soon and I will watch helplessly, as it will be done.

Mat pooch kaun hai; kyu laachaar baithey hain                                                  Mussaafir hai, safar karney ki tamanna haar baithey hain

I wish the best to the lonely night sky, with the stars mocking at. And regrettably, I will have to break my soliloquy, as I see the guests leaving now.                          

After the commotion dies down, my dad calls me to see the gifts I got, as they are unwrapped by the butler. I sit on the chaise lounge, across my parents who are dressed in the daintiest manner. With each gift unwrapped, they sigh in wonder while I maintain a constant smile, hardly looking at the gifts. My gaze shifts to the side table, which supports a pretty net basket, with large sized greeting cards shoved inside it. I pull out one card, and on opening it, a loud birthday tune fills in the room, as everyone is taken aback. I keep it aside in disgust. I pass my time shuffling the greeting cards, reading out the sophisticated surnames of the guests, written on the envelopes. One envelope did not have any name of its giver. Tearing the envelope out of curiosity, I lug out the card. I open the card to read the message inside it. Surprising, rather shocking my senses, I read the name of the person written inside, on the corner at the bottom of title line- a simple card that read just this: WISHING YOU A HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Regards……her name.
Lo abhi jalney ko kuch baaki tha….                                                                               Aur hum samjhey; vo aaye’n hain maatamgiri ke liye
Yes- it was her name! I almost fumbled, feeling all choked up and messed up again; I remembered, that I did not wish her this year on her birthday and she instead had wished me on my birthday, contravening the usual trend! I swallowed! I was confounded by all that I had just read, seen and felt. I felt numb and to be honest, my current position failed any reaction. Standing up, holding the card firmly, I start advancing towards my room upstairs, in a half-absorbed bent of mind, asking my parents to excuse me. I enter my room and dive on my bed, reading the card again, rather that one line again… Tears start to stream down my face and I want to shout, but that rainbow! The next moment I feel inexplicably calm and peaceful. Clasping the card (My best and worst gift that I ever received) close to my chest, feeling morose for the unthinkable that just had happened, I close my eyes on hearing the clock chime at the stroke of midnight, which marked the end of the day we were born!                                                                                            

                                                                        --BY SANA SHAH

...And she smiled

‘And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation’
                          --KHALIL GIBRAN (The Prophet)

The aura of sadness dawned in once again with the rays of the descending scarlet sun, invading the room through the front window at once in a stroke. The sun, once again shifting its imploding face to illuminate the other hemisphere, rendering us hopeless yet again, adding to her listlessness. The lambent rays on her forlorn face would not comfort her in the least, instead it appeared as if her face was glowing to incinerate with the gleam of the setting sun, as she inertly lay in her bed.
Sitting next to her bed on a swivel chair, I could spot her watery eyes, suggestive of the itchiness caused by the direct exposure to the shaft of light. Standing up from my seat I walked to the window, drawing the curtains over in order to block the entry of light, wishing earnestly that could it not be possible to block death in a similar way, with the shifting light could I not shift the appointed time.
Taking my seat I looked at her troubled face, her infuriating eyes, debilitated body exuding warmth beneath the fluffy duvet, exhausted of floundering from one hospital to the other for over a couple of years now, battling death, she allowed her excruciating mental distress to physically impair her, dominating her physical well-being and now the doctors too had given up all hope, declaring her terminally ill.
Just a few days before on her repeated importunity we had to shift her back from the hospital to her apartment where she had willed to spend her final moments, after all this was a place  she could  proudly call her own. This maisonette, that she had with utmost  care adorned intricately over the years with the hangings of memories , wind-chimes of laughter, panoramic joviality embellishing the vibrant walls, now only this was her prime consolation for her retiring soul ; moreover the doctors did not find expediency in keeping a ward of the hospital occupied for such a conjectural indefinite time period only for a ‘hopeless’ and ‘irremediable’ case, precisely  apt veritable locution to delineate her existing predicament, for how could any drug, pills or herb, no matter how efficacious be of any avail to cure her when she herself did not wish to live! For what appeared as a ray of hope to us, seemed to only ignite her yearning for death, as if enraptured by the tryst she itched over the chase. And now she was on her death-bed, waiting with alacrity for the final moments that would lead the steps for the ethereal transition into some arcane world that would ease her off the acute pain and relentless suffering of this world that she had been accustomed to, after that cursed night of estrangement that had rendered her wretched and harshly dejected.
As all the doors shut on us, one after the other, the only sensible thing left for us to do was to allow her depart in peace, and thus we also appointed a nurse to look after her needs. Her bedroom metamorphosing into more of an ‘ICU’ (Intensive care unit), had been equipped with contraptions and machines to monitor her cardiac activity, pulse rate, blood pressure, body temperature and respiration rate. On her side-tables lay scattered piles of medicines, syringes, nostrums, analgesics and certain anti-pyretics. Next to the upper corner of her bed, stood a long iron stand for clamping the drip-feed that was being administered directly into her blood, as she had refused ingesting any solid foods.
All day she would snuggle in the bed, muffling up the fuzzy duvet around her body. She would recurrently alternate her glances between me and the door, perhaps this was the only movement she made, that would suffice to divulge her last wish in her beseeching eyes for me to read.

Burning from high fever since a couple of days, her cerise body enervated in a way yet her heart had reconciled with her inevitable fate, her sublime soul wanting to set free from the ravages of temporal transience. As I caress her rubicund cheeks, I am amazed at the intensity of heat exuded, perchance the heart has engrossed a vast desert of passion and suffering, annihilating within, that prompts me to recall that peculiar, eerie night when I was sleeping on a couch in the ward in which she had been admitted. And breaking the covenant with her slumber, she suddenly got up in the middle of the night, hysterically uttering something abstruse for my mind to comprehend. She then went on to narrate the apparition she had that night, about her nearing end, all the while perpetuating an idiosyncratic grin with a hint of mystifying exultation, flickering deep in her eyes, which of course was disturbing that for an instance my blustering rationality had been fuddled and I was cold for some minutes. But regaining my composure somehow, I lulled her back to sleep, undermining her premonition for some bad dream.
But that night a part of me was convinced that she did not long to live or as I put it: she did not have a purpose to live.
But who could make her senile parents to discern that their beloved daughter was going to forsake them soon. Her parents had emptied their bank balance on travels to many counselors, doctors and priests and now after such an arduous venture that yielded no result ,they preferred to sit penitently in the adjacent room, refraining from seeing the pitiable sight of their only daughter, suffering from such torturous tribulation. Her mother snivelled day and night, while her father consoled her with false hope but somewhere both realized that they would soon lose their ‘Apple of the eye’ in a matter of days or may be hours, promptly accepted or not, was hardly any clause of stipulation in the divine ordinance, given the helpless yet self-assuring nature of humans.
Not that I did not want to save her but she is too good a human to bear this ordeal that is destined to slowly steal away her breaths. She always deserved a life of honour and dignity- yes, she could have started fresh all over again, if only she would have listened to me once- just once!
Now as I reminisce her life, how exuberant and contented she looked with him. Both were extremely devoted towards each other, cheerfully radiating the warmth and tenderness of their strong bond. His adorable face glimmered in her ochre eyes and her laughing timbre resounded in his speech; both looked perfect but together! Then one fateful day, he walked away form her, distancing himself from her…. forever and everything changed; the world turned upside-down for her and since then she has never been in fine fettle; the estrangement shattered her to the core, forcing her into abysmal trauma and she never recovered.
The vehement passion of wilderness enfeebled her that even today as we count on the seconds, all that engraved on her heart is his memories and she is vulnerable to nothing but to his requiting love, for she has been too much used to this separation now, more than that, the requiting acclaim from him that she hopes for in her silent reverence, merely a self-delusion to avert from despondency, to this day passively consumes her from within.
With such endearing love even the cruelest heart will melt like wax, but he did not. Thus despising her burning fervour, she longed for death believing it for a better choice than that of scrambling with a life void of him.

Being half absorbed in these thoughts, my self cogitation was ruffled at what appeared to be a fretful sight when I looked at her face. Her forehead had just started to glisten with sweat bead seeping out and in a matter of seconds she was sweating profusely. Anticipating my apprehensions of the presage, I immediately called out to the nurse who scurried in the next minute. My raucous screech was enough to hassle her parents, who dashed in the room before the nurse. The nurse perusing the screen that monitored her cardiac activity nodded in disapprobation, clicking her tongue, she sighed.
In the next blink her breathing grew heavier adding to our anxiety; amid all the bedlam as I was set motionless, I noticed a drop of tear slip out of her distended eyes, smoothly trickling down her face, perhaps finally a comfort for her smouldering cheeks, manifest from the peaceful, mystifying and everlasting smile that concomitantly prevailed on her lips, indicative of some last wish that had been just fulfilled finally as she unremittingly stared at the door, her eyes fixed, did not blink. It felt as if time protracted to eternity and some cherubic, placid air filled in the room bewildering my senses to stupor. Naturally following the direction of her gaze, my head turned towards the door. As I shifted my gaze towards the door, my mouth fell ajar and my body froze, entirely benumbed by what I saw rather whom I saw.

Yes- it was him! He stood at the door as I let out a wistful sigh, glancing at his complacent face; in the backdrop, I could hear the repetitive beeps of the monitor and the nurse conversing something with her parents. But in harmony with her focus, my attention too was fixed at his face. The fraught insurgency soon abated his complacency and the next second tears trickled down his face- possibly her fire had been watered and doused now. But on his face too that mystifying, placid, gratifying smile, gently blossomed like her. I again turned my face towards her, and she smiled…. she was still smiling at peace, her one hand in her mother’s hands, her father standing besides her, stroking her disheveled hair, their eyes moist.
The inexplicable blend of emotions was confounding us.
I firmly held her other hand, she was cold now. Apprehensive of the appointed time I glanced at the monitor and the nurse’s words resonated in my ears, “She is sinking!”
Tears streamed down her parents’ face in a surge.
“The blood pressure is dropping”, said the nurse.
The ephemeral speediness at which everything was happening made it difficult for anyone to move. I rubbed her hand in a vain attempt, at the same time on tenterhooks I alternated my fleeting looks between him and her; he had not moved an inch inwards, standing still at the door with moist eyes but the same enigmatic smile persisted on his lips like her; yet his tense face was the answer to her prayers and requital of her patience.
The uninterrupted beep of the monitor grasped my attention the next moment, as I saw the green wavy lines dwindle and subside into a green flat line.
“She is gone!” the nurse vociferated as if we did not fathom the moment.
A distinctive ambience of silence pervaded in the room where just before a minute she was gasping for breaths.
He fell onto his knees, as a clamorous wail ensnared the room. I looked at her cadaverous, pallid face, relieved off the agony and pain, as tears rolled down my wan face and she at peace- still smiled!

Uss aakhri nazar mai ajab dard tha Munír
Jaaney ka uskey ranjj mujhe ummr bhar raha
                —Munír Niyazi

   “That inexplicable melancholy flickering deep in that final gaze
    The poignancy of that valediction so ensnared me for life!”
                                                
                                        -SANA SHAH

Moments and Memories — A psychological narration

               
“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.

It took me years to understand that, this too, was a gift !"

                                        -Mary oliver  

Up in the middle of the night ,being unable to sleep,I stand near the  window of my room.I see the full moon coruscate in pride,as the fluffy clouds put forth their endless effort to cover up for its faulty spots,perchance no matter what , this night will never cover up for my faults like those sympathetic clouds up in the vast night sky. Also I could take the duvet for cover while the tick-tock of the clock lulls me to sleep,somehow tonight this lullaby won’t sing me to sleep, instead it will lure me into that old trap of memories that will act as the salt on my wounds, failing my wit with the freshness in my wounds as I reacall the fateful night.
Yes , it has been a year now and I must reconcile with this deceitful night that will sing me the melody of pain. Was this not the night that had kept me awake the previous year in excruciating agony! And will that agony return tonight to safely set ashore those lost memories of you as I feel that connatural aura weave the air around me as I let open the window to perceive that aura of pain again, to hear that melody of pain yet again, thinking with a tinge of hope that you too would,if not for me then for your own soul that lives in the lane of my memories , let open the gates for this journey, circumstantial particularly for tonight.I was never afraid to end my life after you walked my exit but I did not hold my breath just because I could not dare to let your memories , not a single memory to slip out of my soul integrated with your beckoning heart
Hence I am living but with the wish to die,with the curtains of your endearing face before my brooding eyes.
Hopeful of your return, well mindful that you would never look back, I wait in vain. The reflection of the self hurts when I spot out the moist eyes,but I resist!
And as I see now, gently the dense clouds enshrine the luminosity of the moon, with beseeching eyes,I hear the spatter of the rain against the verdant field of my house, as I inhale the redolent odour of the clammy mud. As I let the moments pass I do feel the night taking toll of my heaviness. And now the incessant showers rhythmically lash the vale. Till now it looked as if only a few clouds were mocking at the inability of others to burst but all of a sudden , this excessive deluge bespeaks the sympathy each cloud has for the other which suffice to spin an alluring environment to give vent to the emotions without being ashamed as I feel the crystal beads line my lashes,all set to drown my existence, satisfied that each time I drown my existence a part of me rests with your heart and with each attempt to expunge myself, this night reminds me that you shall never allow me to lose the purpose to live. Tonight as I try to iron that wrinkled page of your life that you left with me, I know God must be smiling at you and you must be smiling softly back at Him, trying to suppress that boiling volcano of tears that steams to burn the memories there and flood my moments here.
I let out a wistful sigh , confused whether this will relieve me or console my miserable direction of thoughts that fail to impede the moisture to wet my smouldering cheeks . Defying  the curfew of resistance I allow my emotions to overpower me as the struggle with your treasured memories will severely defeat me tonight , hence I try to be at peace in recollecting your words once spoken out of deep bonding and affection, I am forced into an abyss of reminiscence with the black hole of night dissecting and dissolving every second that now shall be history. With such intense nostalgia pain would soon be heard as a language in words written with the translucent ink of our tears. Oh! You have somehow set the wheel frantically twirling into a scintillating flashback of time in my mind that reels in the radiance of those but un-noticed moments that tonight hold a consequential relevance in your heart and in my heart too!
Not readily but tonight I shall accept my laconic and curt temperament to be your criminal, hence I feel deliriously tempted to walk to  this altar that you have laid for me so that I might acquit myself of those allegations , indictments and accusations that ruthlessly jab my conscience every moment. Not that I do not think of you the other days and nights but I have set this night exclusively to acclaim the right to be convicted in your court of eternity as this night marks the holocaust not put on any records but permanently carved out on the two cloistered hearts in a veined rough texture. And before any decree is passed , I shall find myself imprisoned behind the bars of your memories again , a chastiment good enough to shatter my resistance shown. As the minutes crumple in hours , my bones out of fatigue crave for comfort and I drag my weary body to be laid back on my velvety and warm bed on which as I rest contradicting my nobility feels bleak and prickly tonight to deprive me of any comfort and I keep on tossing from one side to the other just when your radiant ,ochre eyes meet my sleep deprived, tired eyes and your lovely face greets me warmly as you smile at me in peace easing me of my listlessness,but alas! Frozen in that captured moment caged in this intricately designed wooden frame on my side-table, accentuating under the illumination of the table lamp as if violently blazing to challenge me to remove this last remain of yours which I have held dearer to my own breath since a year. Taking the wooden frame in my hands ,I stare into your deep eyes as if they would just now twinkle to let out a drop of tear to skim down your florid cheeks. Yes this face once would comfort me of all the prosaic distress and I would float into a state of awe as I recall your dulcet voice that once would call after me, the curve of your rubicund lips that would blossom into a gentle smile making the wilted flowers to bloom again, your angry grimace on my senseless natter, your sweet fragrance that would dazzle my senses and of course the radiance of your deep, ochre eyes as if inviting me to jump in to assess its depth……..all but is now a delusion I visualize to betray my current state of helplessness for if I remember those cherished moments of  delight and ecstasy, I also do not forget this melancholic night when I stood traumatized at the doorway like a mute spectator watching you leave my world forever!
The outcome of such a vacillating bond after some more time is this:- Tired and heavy eyes thirsty for tears and a heavy, reticent heart lamenting the flood of my inexplicable grief that washes away my sensibility.
They say that a broken heart is the hardest to repair…uh! But to repair a heart that does not wish to be saved is an impossibility which tonight I realize after floundering tirelessly for a year now watching the days unfold their vagueness, there is a void without you in my life and the special place that I have devotedly assigned to you can never be engrossed by anyone else,not in life!
But as I ramble on with myself this night, squirming from side to side clasping this wooden frame close to my chest I wonder do you ever yearn to return back to me, do you ever hear me scream just to repudiate  the voice of silence you have gifted me with? Do you ever feel this intense longing I have still and will this ever fade away? Are things ever going to get better? Or with the accustomed life I will have to delude myself with the abstraction of “destiny”. As these questions pound my head, with great care I place the wooden frame back on my side-table and I push the duvet aside. Getting out of the bed, I stand on my heels but with difficulty, I drag  myself to the window again. As I peep out of the window nothing but a stretch of darkness awaits me as I feel the rain drops trip over my cheeks,perhaps a temptation for my eyes!
Although with remorseful decisiveness,I must find a panacea to cure my contrition as I look around, this has to be done but tonight! With an impulsive movement of my arm I twitch  to bolt and close the window firmly and then I draw the curtains over, ambiguous as to why I did it.

With an air of protest,I fight my own quixotic self as I manage to crawl back into my bed and pull the warm duvet over my head as I give in to my helplessness and submit to some unseen force,hopeful that this cursed night will after all now bestow some mercy and cradle me to sleep,thus I close my heavy eyes…..

With the first streak of light entering my room through the crevice between the curtains ,my eyes open to the harmonious chirping of the birds. The rain must have stopped as soon as the tryst with that fateful night must have ended. I rub my eyes to wipe away the doleful giddiness of the previous night, stretching my arms I heave away the duvet and turn to get out of the bed , as my gaze shifts to the other side, my eyes meet the stillness of your eyes in the wooden frame and I freeze again……….!  

       Num Hai palkein teri aey mauj-e-hawa raat ke saath                     

       Kya tujhey bhi koi yaad aata hai barsaat ke saath? 

                     -Parvin Shakir

Moist lashes lined with crystal beads oh the spurt of gale as night dawns upon

To you, also, does this rain recoups the distant memories of someone long back gone?

       -(Transcreation) Sana Shah

 .                               -Sana shah