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Sunday, November 18, 2012

Monday morning posts and such like




I know Incredible India ads can be a little over the top, sugary, gooey 'India is really incredible, really really', but what to do. I love them all, they make me swell with pride. Cos guys, India IS incredible, so screw you who thinks otherwise.

 Winter is here, and waking up early is a curse.I hate it with all my heart, especially when my dadi says, seeing my groggy face, "Tumhare office mein winter timings nahi hote?" ................................

There's going to be some music, dancing, few close friends, lame jokes, and lots to drink, soon. After very long, I am looking forward to 22nd, I am not going to sulk this year, no sir.

Anyhow. While in the Metro, I saw this one girl reading a book I read some six years back, and I remember, as a class, we were more than mesmerised by his writing. I remember dropping some of these, in casual conversations and no matter how morose it sounded then, and even now, there's something about this poem. So, here it is:


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example,'The night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight searches for her as though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my sould is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.