A dedication

Memories are wonderful things if you don’t have to deal with the past.

Dedicated to my memories......sweet and bitter.

Falling leaves of December,

May I ask if you permit?

While you are not here,

Where ll be the shade I am in.

Falling leaves of December,

May I know where you are going?

In that distant horizon, carried by misty breeze,

Who will be there with me when you are gone?

Falling leaves of December,

Leave me not, for I ll be all alone.

Falling leaves of December,

Leave me not, for there are none but you.

Another mistake....

4 years had passed since we last met.

I was tensed. My heart was pumping in a rhythm that showed the unrest in me, yes I wanted to see her but was unaware how she would take it.

Destiny played it best to avert such a meeting, but somewhere, with a golden pen it was already written and whatever the forces that tried to ebb it away… failed.

In that corridor, in the midst of pain and anguish, I saw her.
In that divine white coat, she was an angel for everybody in pain …..And for me too.

Countless neurons calculated and recalculated the next decision…turn and walk away.

Before by reflexes could get accustomed and agree to it, she saw me.

From the midst of aching and wailing bodies, she waved me to wait, with that ever intriguing smile.

I nodded, even before I could think.
…………………………………………………………….

May she would have come to the end of that long corridor, to find the empty white bench.

Life had many mistakes; I had added one more to it then.

Unanswered...

Someday, yes... , someday I will meet her.

Then too, I will be having the same question as of today.

By then, May be I would be a little slow but surely, I would articulate in a better way.

I would have phrased and rephrased it a thousand times in mind by then,huh…just like what I am doing right now.

And yes, I would have a little hesitation that would be there if she was in front of me right now, right here.

I know it would be late …but then life, as somebody rightfully said, is just memories. Along with myriads of them, this would be just another one.

Every day I get up with a hope that today would be day and every night, before going to sleep I hope it would be tomorrow.

I know what she would say,….. just another lie .

And I know what I would do then…..simply turn around and walk away.

But when I meet her, I need to ask her that.

A Tribute to Tagore

I write about the personal and my alter life in my blog, but this time I simply wanted to put something that i stumbled upon.

Stream of Life

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the lifethrob of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

Hats off to the great poet!!!!!
This is what prompted me :->Here you go