Remember…

 

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Remember this road A. Remember that day we walked in silence. Remember how we walked together all the way to the end of the road, but we never reached the end together. 

How is that possible one would ask, it makes no sense. But you know too well what it means, and so do I. 

तुम्हारी निगाहों में सूनापन बेपयान, तुम्हारे तर्ज में खला बेइंतिहा थी
दिल में ग़म के अल्हान, होंठों पे अनकही दास्तान थी
रह रह के तुम्हारी साँसें  कुछ बोझल सी हो रही थी,
एक बार को लगा कि जैसे रूह भी तुम्हारी रो रही थी
कुछ कहना था शायद मुझसे, जाने किस हिरास में जल रहे थे
हम दोनों साथ थे मगर, तुम तन्हा ही चल रहे थे
ख़मोशी के एक कोहरे में जैसे दोनों खो चुके थे
इतने क़रीब होकर भी अजनबी हो चुके थे

– कृत्या

 

The Red Moon

The Red Moon

Funny things we humans do, like stand in the cold, with a camera in the wee hours of the morning, sleepy souls, tired eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the moon in the earth’s shadow. Don’t we have enough things in the dark, enough things hidden in the shadows on earth already :)

To me this looks more like the moon and the tiny star are both looking at each other, the moon angry and the star scared :) 

Oh well, with the borrowed 300mm zoom lens, this is the best I could manage. I always wanted to click a picture of the full moon, well a red full moon even better.
Krithya!

The only editing I did was to crop it, put my watermark and a border :) Its red, it actually was

Ek shayar se rishta (A relationship with a poet) – by Gulzar sahab)

Kuch kuch uski baaton se ab sehmat hoon main 

Uska kehna theek hai shayad, shayar na hote tum to kitne jhoote aadmi hote 

Saamne aate hi poocha tha, “naye naye kurte pe kahan se rang laga ke aaye ho

O tab dekha to khayal aaya, saahil pe gaya tha sunset dekh raha tha wahan, wahi laga aaye

“kya hai! gira kya aankh mein,  aise masal rahe ho?”

chat pe tha main, bijli chamki to ek rezah roshni ka daayin aankh ke andar ud ke chala gaya hai 

Pagalpan lagta hai usko, der talak kal dekha falak to aankhein neeli padne lagi hain

uska rang utar aaya hai ,aasmaan ka rang kachcha hai 

“Ungli par kuch hua hai kya”

Haan raat ko taare ginte ginte ungli jal gayi, chaala pad gaya

- Gulzar

Its about a poet who thinks he now agrees with his beloved, when she said if he were not a poet he would have been such a liar.

That day right when I stepped in front of her she asked ” Where did you get that color on your new shirt”

And I looked at it and then it occurred to me,I told her, “I went to shore to see the sun set, it left some of its color on me”

And then she had asked , “Why are you rubbing your eye, is there something in your eye”

And I told her, “I was at the terrace, and when lightning struck, a small piece of light flew right into my eye”

She thought it was crazy when I told her that I have been staring at the sky for a long time, that is why my eyes are blue

Some of the color seeped into my eyes, you know the color of the sky is very flimsy (it keeps falling off :))

And then when she had asked,  “did something happen to my finger”

I told her, “Yes last night while I was counting the stars I burned my finger, its sore from the burn”

 

Such simplicity and such beauty :)

Long distance love (Sarah Kay)

I have already fallen in love with far too many postage stamps. When you appeared on my doorstep wearing nothing but a postcard province…no, appeared is the wrong word. Is there a word for sucker-punching someone in the heart? Is there a word for when you’re sitting at the bottom of a roller coaster and you realize that the climb is coming, that you know what the climb means, that you can already feel the flip in your stomach from the fall before you even moved. Is there a word for that? There should be.

You can only fit so many words in a postcard…only so many in a phone call…only so many into space before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness.

It’s hard to build a body out of words. I have tried. We have both tried.

Instead of holding your head to my chest, I tell you about the boy who lives downstairs from me; who stays up all night long practicing his drum set. The neighbors have complained. They have busy days tomorrow but he keeps on thumping through the night convinced I think that practice makes perfect.

Instead of holding my hand, you tell me about the sandwich you made for lunch today; how the pickles fit so perfectly with the lettuce.

Practice does not make perfect. Practice makes permanent.

Repeat the same mistakes over and over and you don’t get any closer to Carnegie Hall, even I know that. Repeat the same mistakes over and over and you don’t get any closer. You never get any closer.

Is there a word for the moment you win tug-of-war? When the weight gives and all that extra rope comes hurdling towards you; how even though you  won, you still wind up with muddy knees and burns on your hands. Is there a word for that? I wish there was.

I would have said it when we were finally together on your couch, neither one of us with anything left to say.

Still now, I send letters into space hoping that some mailman somewhere will track you down and recognize you from the description in my poems. That he will place the stack of them in your hands and tell you, there is a girl that still writes to you… she doesn’t know how not to.

Nenani neevani (Kotha banagaru lokam) – Lyrics and Translation

This is one of the few telugu songs that I fell in love with, the moment I heard it, but lost it somewhere along the way.  I was reminded of this song today, felt like listening to it, then thought I should probably make a note so that I don’t lose it again like several other things, that make me smile.
It took me a while to find and compile the translation for the song. I say compile because I indeed needed a lot of help from other websites to get to the lyrics and translation. :)
Nenani neevani veruga lemani cheppina vinara okaraina?
nenu nee needani nuvvu na nijamani, oppuko galara epudaina?
reppa venukala swapnam ippudeduraiyye sathyam thelisthe? 
addukogalada vegam kotham bangaru lokam pilisthe?
That you and I are not different, if we say this, is there no one who will listen? 
That I am your shadow and you are my truth, will they ever agree to this? 
If they discover that the dream inside their eyes is the reality in front of them
Would they be able to stop (themselves) from speeding up, if that new golden world calls out to them? 
 modati sari madhini cheri nidara lepina udayama!
vayasuloni pasitanaani, palakarinchina pranayama
mari kothaga maro puttuka
anetattuga idhi nee maye na?
It feels like the first time, the morning has slipped into my heart to wake me up 
Like life just called out to that child who lives within us at any age. 
Everything feels so new, like a new life (re-birth) 
Is this all your magic? 
padamu nadi paruguu needi predhamu vera priyathama?
thaguvu nadi theguva needi geluchuko purushottama
nuvve darigaa ninne cheragaa etu choodaka
venuvente raana
Its my feet and you run, are we still different beloved? 
Its my fight but you might be broken, so go win it oh virtuous man
You are my road, and you are my destination, I see you everywhere 
Should I just follow you? 
PS : The telugu lyrics and some of its translation are from the website : http://www.ardhamy.com

A Hug…

krithya G:

The tenderness, the affection, the care, the safety, the trust that comes with a hug, one can find all of it here. Beautifully captured.
I am not sure if these pictures are in chronological order, I would like to assume they are. From being scared (in the 2nd picture) to looking right into the camera (in the last picture). Looks like a hug was all the little one needed to cross that mountain of doubt between fear and confidence.

Originally posted on Living with a damaged skull:

         

           Hugging is the ideal gift.

               Great for any occasion, fun to give and receive,

                    shows you care, comes with its own wrapping and,

                    of course, is fully returnable. Hugging is practically perfect.

                       No batteries to wear out, inflation-proof, nonfattening,

                        no monthly payments, theft-proof and nontaxable.”

                                                                         ~~ Unknown

_POP2096 copy

             …

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In search of a wonderland

Wonderland

She was looking for her wonderland. They said there is a wonderland somewhere in the forest. It was a long walk to the forest. She started early, but it was almost noon by the time she reached. The sun was almost overhead, sun rays trying to find their way through the labyrinth of leaves and branches to meet the dandelions that covered the forest floor, rays travelling from that one sun above to the several below.  

And that is where she found him, a cup of tea and a book in hand. And that is where she found herself, a pink diary and a half chewed pencil. They wandered around for a while, he, trying to find a place where he could sit back, relax and read his book, she trying to find a place to unwind, rest her tired legs, take a break from her search for the wonderland.

They ended up  choosing the same spot in the forest, right beneath that tree whose shade was bright enough to read a book and dim enough for a nap in the afternoon sun. She rolled her stole into a little pillow, put her diary and pencil away, and lay down closing her eyes trying to sleep. He sat down, finished his tea and started reading his book aloud.  She was not complaining, if anything she was surprised, how does he know, that I like the soft murmur of people talking as I fall asleep, she thought.
And so he read his book to her, a book he had written. It sounded so familiar, she woke up with a startle thinking for a moment, he was reading her diary to her, she checked for her diary, it was right where she had left it. So it was his book, his book and her story. She went to sleep not worrying about her diary anymore. It was all the same. :)
She fell asleep and he kept reading. One beautiful line after another. “I’ve never seen a dove sleep, but I wonder if this is how it looks?”, he thought
“I have never heard angels sing a lullaby, but I wonder if this is how it sounds?”, she thought
She had not slept such a sound sleep in ages. Was it the endless sleepless nights or was it the voice reading her a book, and the chirping of birds in the background or may be she had found her wonderland.