26 March, 2011

आज मेरे पिया घर आवेंगे

She stood very still. The sun had taken up demonic proportions, staring her will into submission. It drained her soul to stand under him, drops of hope drying up before they formed. Her anklets clinked cheerlessly in meek desperation. The lifeless blue sky was unforgiving, a passive audience to her helplessness. She watched a parched bird flap its wings, slowly. And willed it to die before her. The heat swelled to unbearable proportions, she sweat her angst, rivulets streamed down her back. Clenching her teeth she droned on. Another blade of grass collected, another desolate mile covered. A thorn hurt her weary feet but she couldn't find it. Dust clothed her thirsty body, its stale breath stifling her earthy odour. Her lips no longer knew the song her heart desperately sang. The desert had robbed her of her voice. Once more she stood at the tiny window looking up at the cloudless blue. Not even a breath of a breeze. 

Then one day the winds blew a moist rumour her way. Her hopes writhed in wild anticipation, her heart was pregnant with anticipation. She clasped the window tightly, her sweat drenched clothes sticking to her legs.  Her calloused hands grew cold with nervousness. Her soul fluttered as her eyes scanned the arid horizon for tell-tale signs. She walked out, sniffing the wind, and saw the bird. It was gasping, its pleading eyes begging her for release. She picked up a stone. Flat and large, it was hot from the sun's relentless onslaught. She looked once again at the silent sky and then at the bloody eyes of the bird. Her bangles chattered noisily, disapproving of what she was about to do. As she lifted the stone, suddenly so heavy, her tired muscles complained. The thorn still hurt and she gasped slightly. Then it fell. The first warm drop. The stone fell away from her hands. Her senses, aroused by the wayward drop, soaked in the mercy. And then the rain poured, a fury of love unleashed from the skies. The drops were grey and fierce now. Possessing her in their uncontrolled passion. She lifted her face up to the untamed wrath, surrendering herself completely. The bird squawked, forgotten in her ecstacy. 

मेरी सखी मंगल गाओ री
धरती अम्बर सजाओ री
उतरेगी आज मेरे पी की सवारी
अरी कोई काजल लाओ जी
मोई काला टीका लगाओ री
उनकी छवि से लगूं मैं तो प्यारी  

As the water moistened her fractured hopes, she released herself. Mirth robbed her senses of reason. She drank some rain, tasting its tender sweetness. Her body now reeked of the maniacal scent of happiness. Her feet swayed, the thorn forgotten. The dust settled down, cowering against the might of the rain. Its defeat smelt sweet. She crinkled her nose playfully and gulped another heartful. She clutched at the rain and soaked her dreams. The bird was recovering now, she saw its dreary eyes show signs of reluctant life. Looking at it she felt a stab of sharp reproach in its eyes. "Why didn't you rescue me?" She sighed and held it to her bossom, breathing her life into it. And she wondered how much rain it would take to satiate her soul.

3 comments:

  1. Okay, I am going for the worst PJ ever..
    Did she invest in rainwater-harvesting? :)

    On a more serious note, beautifully written blog.. thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous5:44 pm

    Zindagi hai dhuan toh kya, bujh gayee har subah toh kya.

    There are no places that have both your footprints, no photographs with both your smiles, no life that both you shared. There is anger though, and jealousy, and longing, and hope.

    In the long wait for the rain, life passes you by.
    Even when it does come, what shall price shall you pay?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Pain is a curious pleasure. Often sweeter.

      There are places that hold their footprints. There are lifetimes lived in their moments. And if there is jealously, there is also pride. If there is anger, there is also love. If there is hope, then well, what else do they need?

      Delete

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