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Posts Tagged ‘Grief’

 

The wind blew her hair

As she stood still in front of

His tombstone in utter despair,

Letting the rough weather beat her skin hard.

 

She would have walked away

From the harsh winter breath

If it were any other day,

But not today, just not today.

 

His arms tried to comfort her

But they weren’t enough.

Instead, she craved for the ones of the man

Whose remains lay deep under the ground.

 

She recollected the times when

Her tiny self lay in the dim light,

Giggling to the stories he said

At half-past eight every night.

 

She reminisced the stories in which

The men in the village walked upside down

To cross the bridge with the Basilisk

To get to the ogres who planted roses of brown.

 

Her memories wandered to the times

When she didn’t have enough height

To reach the cookie jar kept high above,

The arms of her father would take flight

To scoop her up from down.

 

Finally, there was a time when

The cameras didn’t show her tiny silhouette anymore

Because she was as old as the Belle

From his stories now.

 

As she grew old,

It was not just his stories

She ignored

But also the old man

Of whom she got bored.

 

Now standing in front of his tombstone,

She let every single tear

Seep down the grass and into his bones,

So that she could give him a part of her

That she ought to have given him

During the last of his years.

 

 

Vaishnavi Sathish is yet to finish her schooling but has a flair for literature and fine arts. She lives in Pondicherry and has recently published a maiden collection of 39 of her poems under the title Sunflowers of the Dark.

 

 

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Creative persons often respond to crises in their lives with a renewed enthusiasm and vigour for their art and craft. Creative juices help them to not only retain a state of mental equipoise but also pour out some strikingly positive thoughts. The shadow of a deep sorrow within eventually decides to part company and move on to some other soul which happens to be more vulnerable. A pale parabola of joy becomes visible on the horizon, leading the tormented soul from an abyss of darkness to a brighter and cheerier environment. Goddess Saraswati provides a healing touch.

Late Shri Harivansh Rai Bachchan lost his first wife at a young age. One of the poems he penned at the time is a great composition which could enthuse anyone who is grappling with the sudden loss of a loved one.

Translation skills of yours truly are indeed debatable. However, the essence of the poem entitled, say, ‘What has happened has happened‘, is pregnant with some relevant lessons from one’s environment. But before we come to that, let us savour the original first.

जो बीत गई सो बात गई

जीवन में एक सितारा था
माना वह बेहद प्यारा था
वह डूब गया तो डूब गया
अम्बर के आनन को देखो
कितने इसके तारे टूटे
कितने इसके प्यारे छूटे
जो छूट गए फिर कहाँ मिले
पर बोलो टूटे तारों पर
कब अम्बर शोक मनाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई

जीवन में वह था एक कुसुम
थे उसपर नित्य निछावर तुम
वह सूख गया तो सूख गया
मधुवन की छाती को देखो
सूखी कितनी इसकी कलियाँ
मुर्झाई कितनी वल्लरियाँ
जो मुर्झाई फिर कहाँ खिली
पर बोलो सूखे फूलों पर
कब मधुवन शोर मचाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई

जीवन में मधु का प्याला था
तुमने तन मन दे डाला था
वह टूट गया तो टूट गया
मदिरालय का आँगन देखो
कितने प्याले हिल जाते हैं
गिर मिट्टी में मिल जाते हैं
जो गिरते हैं कब उठतें हैं
पर बोलो टूटे प्यालों पर
कब मदिरालय पछताता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई

मृदु मिटटी के हैं बने हुए
मधु घट फूटा ही करते हैं
लघु जीवन लेकर आए हैं
प्याले टूटा ही करते हैं
फिर भी मदिरालय के अन्दर
मधु के घट हैं मधु प्याले हैं
जो मादकता के मारे हैं
वे मधु लूटा ही करते हैं
वह कच्चा पीने वाला है
जिसकी ममता घट प्यालों पर
जो सच्चे मधु से जला हुआ
कब रोता है चिल्लाता है

जो बीत गई सो बात गई

(Courtesy: http://kavitakosh.org)

If you had a star in your life which was bright and beautiful, the day it fell from the sky, it just fell. The sky does not grieve over it. When fragrant flowers fall, the forest of honey does not wallow in sorrow. The vessels of mud, containing tissue restoratives, fall and break. But those in a merry making mood move on with their celebration of life. There is not much point in mourning over the loved ones who have parted company for ever.

Life goes on. Look forward to tomorrow with some uplifting thoughts and ideas. Do not grieve over a lost opportunity.

A profound message, indeed.

(PS: If you liked this post, and happen to be a fan of P G Wodehouse, you may like to check this out as well: 

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2018/02/14/the-death-of-death-at-the-hands-of-p-g-wodehouse)

 

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