जाने कैसे
टूटे रिश्तों से
बिखरे हैं यह पल
मानो जैसे
ग़म कि पलकों से छलके
हैं यह पल
क्यूँ अधूरी
यह काहानी
क्यूँ अधूरा
यह फ़साना
क्यूँ लकीरों में इसकी
अलविदा .....
~ Niranjan Iyengar
~~ Alvida, D-Day
Roshni sits in her room alone. It's close to 11 PM. Dinner is done, the lights are off, the doors are locked, the kitchen is closed and clean. She packs her bag for office tomorrow. Takes the bottle of her night moisturizer and sits on her bed. Closes her eyes and says her prayers. And then she props up her pillow and leans back. And heaves a sigh. Another day gone by. Another night is here. She grabs the cream and starts moisturizing her arms and legs. Her eyes are lost and are looking into a far far far away world. The AC is humming, and that's the only sound. There is complete silence outside and inside of her. She closes the cream bottle and places it on the chest next to her bed.
She picks up the big Vaseline and applies some on her lips. And closes her eyes when she is rubbing her lips. Her eyes suddenly ache, she takes some more Vaseline and puts some on her eyelids. It gives some relief. She closes the Vaseline and keeps it back. It is now really time to sleep.
But sleep is hard to come by. She promises herself, like every night, that she needs to give up her 7:30 PM coffee/chai. It only ruins her sleep. But she needs something to sip on, something refreshing, when she gets back home. It's a luxury she can afford herself, after a tough day at work and a grueling yoga class.
She checks the clock again, it's now 11:30PM. How does time not fly like this at work? And when you want it to go slow at night, and early in the morning, it races ahead. Teasing you. Time. Such a cheeky little chap.
She leans back on her pillow again and checks her phone. no messages, no emails, no calls. Nothing. She closes her eyes ad rests her head on the backrest of the bed. And thinks about the days gone by. It has been a week since life as she knew it, ended. Someone left her that day and someone left her today. Suddenly it pains her to think about the days gone by. So she picks up her laptop and opens YouTube. She wants to listen to something but her memory evades her.
She laughs, it's the laugh of a child. It's a shrill laugh, it goes from a smile to a chuckle to a giggle to a laugh. And then breaks down and cries. No matter how much you prepare yourself, when the inevitable happens, you feel torn. She wants to go back in time. But she doesn't know if she will change anything. But she suddenly wants all the good times from all these years to come back. She wants to hold onto them, but they only hurt her more. so she let's them go softly, only to feel sudden loneliness and reach out and hold them back again. For now the memories are strong and come back to her, whenever she wants them to. What happens when they start to fade away? Her promises, his promises, their promises, are now words from the past. Mocking her. Time stands in one corner and watches her. It's almost calling out to her to be strong. But she doesn't have it in her anymore. Last week she just might have thrown away her one chance at happiness. If only she knew what she wanted.
And this week, the music that was with her left her too. He left and he took the music. But then something in her knew for a long time that this had to end. It's just that when something actually happens, the shock of it throws you back and you suddenly wake up from this parallel world you were in. She stares at a blank YouTube search bar and closes the tab. A favorite poem of hers suddenly comes to her. The words almost resounding in her head and in her empty, cold room:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dogs from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is dead
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves
He was my North, my South, my East, my West
My morning week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought love would last forever : I was wrong
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Put away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Funeral Blues
W.H. Auden
टूटे रिश्तों से
बिखरे हैं यह पल
मानो जैसे
ग़म कि पलकों से छलके
हैं यह पल
क्यूँ अधूरी
यह काहानी
क्यूँ अधूरा
यह फ़साना
क्यूँ लकीरों में इसकी
अलविदा .....
~ Niranjan Iyengar
~~ Alvida, D-Day
Roshni sits in her room alone. It's close to 11 PM. Dinner is done, the lights are off, the doors are locked, the kitchen is closed and clean. She packs her bag for office tomorrow. Takes the bottle of her night moisturizer and sits on her bed. Closes her eyes and says her prayers. And then she props up her pillow and leans back. And heaves a sigh. Another day gone by. Another night is here. She grabs the cream and starts moisturizing her arms and legs. Her eyes are lost and are looking into a far far far away world. The AC is humming, and that's the only sound. There is complete silence outside and inside of her. She closes the cream bottle and places it on the chest next to her bed.
She picks up the big Vaseline and applies some on her lips. And closes her eyes when she is rubbing her lips. Her eyes suddenly ache, she takes some more Vaseline and puts some on her eyelids. It gives some relief. She closes the Vaseline and keeps it back. It is now really time to sleep.
But sleep is hard to come by. She promises herself, like every night, that she needs to give up her 7:30 PM coffee/chai. It only ruins her sleep. But she needs something to sip on, something refreshing, when she gets back home. It's a luxury she can afford herself, after a tough day at work and a grueling yoga class.
She checks the clock again, it's now 11:30PM. How does time not fly like this at work? And when you want it to go slow at night, and early in the morning, it races ahead. Teasing you. Time. Such a cheeky little chap.
She leans back on her pillow again and checks her phone. no messages, no emails, no calls. Nothing. She closes her eyes ad rests her head on the backrest of the bed. And thinks about the days gone by. It has been a week since life as she knew it, ended. Someone left her that day and someone left her today. Suddenly it pains her to think about the days gone by. So she picks up her laptop and opens YouTube. She wants to listen to something but her memory evades her.
She laughs, it's the laugh of a child. It's a shrill laugh, it goes from a smile to a chuckle to a giggle to a laugh. And then breaks down and cries. No matter how much you prepare yourself, when the inevitable happens, you feel torn. She wants to go back in time. But she doesn't know if she will change anything. But she suddenly wants all the good times from all these years to come back. She wants to hold onto them, but they only hurt her more. so she let's them go softly, only to feel sudden loneliness and reach out and hold them back again. For now the memories are strong and come back to her, whenever she wants them to. What happens when they start to fade away? Her promises, his promises, their promises, are now words from the past. Mocking her. Time stands in one corner and watches her. It's almost calling out to her to be strong. But she doesn't have it in her anymore. Last week she just might have thrown away her one chance at happiness. If only she knew what she wanted.
And this week, the music that was with her left her too. He left and he took the music. But then something in her knew for a long time that this had to end. It's just that when something actually happens, the shock of it throws you back and you suddenly wake up from this parallel world you were in. She stares at a blank YouTube search bar and closes the tab. A favorite poem of hers suddenly comes to her. The words almost resounding in her head and in her empty, cold room:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dogs from barking with a juicy bone
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is dead
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves
He was my North, my South, my East, my West
My morning week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,
I thought love would last forever : I was wrong
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Put away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
Funeral Blues
W.H. Auden
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