Tag Archives: darkness

An Unexpected One Liner.

“Aandhere me jo bhi dikhe, us se darr hi lagta hai.”

My friend said this to me yesterday. The literal translation of which is, “Anything that you see in the dark, is most certainly going to scare you.”

And somehow I find that that this friend is always right and meeting him for this occasional coffee proves more than just a cup of coffee. This is not the first time he has struck a one liner and stumped me. He does this time and again, sometimes only trying to be funny, and the other times, trying to compose my edgy nerves. And almost every time he succeeds in his intentions.

After he said this to me, I kept mulling over it, and I could only decipher its truth even more, after every passing second.

Isn’t he right? I mean sometimes does not the smallest of things bother you only because there is something else crucial going around? Doesn’t sometimes some incidents leave a mark on you more than they should, only because they came after a chain of unwanted events, shaking you? Do you not sometimes, feel scared only because something else is scaring you? Do you not feel scared in the darkness only because there is something uncertain? Do you not feel scared because there is nothing to see in that darkness? Do you not be scared only because you might be scared of the darkness? Are you not scared of being scared itself?

PS: I don’t know how much I make sense today to any one of you..

 

I Wanted To Heal You….!!

Yesterday, I posted this, and I felt exactly the words deep in my life, something that came out from inside my heart, but somehow I was not satisfied with the end. I hated my own poetry, my own work, my own thoughts, leaving my readers and myself without hope, and hence I came up with a little different conclusion today.

 

Do let me know which one of the endings did you like more?

 

I wanted; wanted

To take away all our pain,

To free you from your aches,

To envelope you in my embrace,

To make you forget all that can’t be erased.

 

I wanted; wanted

To kiss all your tears,

To chase away all your fears,

To taste all your wounds,

To chaperone you to the tombs.

 

I wanted; wanted

To cure you of your grief,

To surcease all your strife,

To heal your body, your soul,

To be your cure, an antidote.

 

I wanted; wanted

To give you all my happiness,

To bestow you only with blissfulness,

To free you of the enchains,

To liberate you, of all the restrains.

 

And in doing so,

I lost my exulted ecstasy,

My humorous joviality,

My peace, my calm,

My tranquility, the only charm.

 

And in doing so,

I reached someplace called inferno,

Burning, writhing, for how long I don’t know.

In healing you, I lost myself,

My body, my soul,

And there was left, no antidote.

 

 

But then someday, one day,

I rose to that Elysium,

Finessing away all your delirium,

Proliferating my poise,

Vanquishing the void,

Conquering the little forgotten calm,

Regaining all the lost charm.

And I liberated from your chains, with time,

The long lost, yet my lustrous smile.

 

 

 

 

Half World!

Reading Indian Writing, I came across a wonderful Telugu poem. Unfortunately my lack of knowledge in language, forced me to read the English translation.  Nonetheless, it definitely reached my favourites.

I could not find it over the internet, but I take the liberty to share the translation here, which I found in a Pdf file.

 

Half World

Arthanareeswara – half woman, half Eswar

You say, or, half of the sky

Both sound the same.

Cleaving the globe vertically into two

Half light and half darkness

Darkness is only the shadow of light

That’s the lesson taught at school in childhood.

 

Three rooms in our home:

Drawing room, bedroom, and kitchen

One half is mine

For my hubby the drawing room

For me the kitchen

For us both, the bed

Responsibilities we share half-and-half

Bearing the baby mine,

Giving the family name, his.

 

When dusk falls

Shivers in the spine

Wailing hearts

On being raped

As though rising from graves

Before lamps run out of oil

Spent matchsticks

If these snigger and tease

If wan and feeling wretched

The differences aeon-long

Are those of light and dark.

 

Groping in the dark

Claiming half world as mine

How long can I feign Urmila’s* sleep?

Not in the answer sheets in the exams alone

For life too should a margin be given.

Life should be securely held and protected:

Even from the one to whom the heart is given.

 

(*Lakshmana’s wife in the Ramayana. She spends all her life in sleep during his exile.)

 

-S. Jaya

This reminds me of so many poets, Plath, Kamala Das… And all I can do is read this again and again.

 

Source of Darkness

Does darkness have a source?

I don’t think so.

For me, darkness does not come naturally,

It comes only when the light, the ray of hope, unknowingly hides away from us.

*

What are your thoughts?

 

 

The Strength of a Flickering Candle.

She was sitting there, lost into her gloomy thoughts. The room was awfully murky, and the darkness helped her hide from the light. Tattered as she was, so were her thoughts. Her appearance was no less depressed with rugged hair, with the black dress, and with face as dull as her feelings. She clutched onto herself, at a shuffle of sound, dreading anyone’s presence. She needed no one at the moment, she knew the amount of pessimism people brought to her, and she was also conscious of her own tumultuous state. It was all plentiful.

Lying down, she shut her eyes, as if the room was not dark enough. Taking deep breathes she suddenly felt the loss of air, the need for cool air. And there it was, a sway of cool breeze through the window which had been kept open in the dark of the night.

Only then with the flicker of the light did she realise that there was a candle far away in the room, barely alight. The wind blowing now was making it harder for it to be kept lighted and she did not even wish it to be lighted. But no amount of wind could blow off the candle. It almost got burnt out and then just when it seemed that it was out, she would find that it was still alight, barely alight, but yes it did have the vigour and the desire to keep itself lighted which she knew she missed in herself.

A small candle which did not even have the needed amount of wax to light itself fought for the light that it wanted to spread in the darkness of the room, and there she was crouched at the far corner, hardly breathing, hardly wanting to live.

If the candle could put up a fight, so could she. She would reignite herself again; she would rise up and not let any sort of obscurity win over her. Not this time. She would keep her life lighted from then on. And there just when the candle burnt itself again and gave the brightest light, she knew she was born again.

And as the candle went off, she smiled brightly, welcoming the dawn, her tears long dried and a face that had the power to conquer her world. Her soul set free from the chains of the darkness.