Ek Saans reh gayee hai
Vo Be na toot jaye
The only gasp which remains
that too might snap
The reverse countdown has already triggered in my mind. Four days to go before I hop on a flight to felicity. Nature always thrills me. The rhapsody which raw leaves make with common hoopoes is more enchanting than all the din in our ipods. The puerile rustle of wind at your windowpane. The waltz of phantoms in the woods. Familiar tweedle of the long-tailed shrike. Plop of the fish. I just want to be there -- crash on my sack and dream. Dream the dreams, I cannot stroke. Imagine the hugs I cannot feel. Isn’t it so beautiful that we can almost do everything wacky – which we may never attempt in real life -- in our little fantasies?
I sipped lemon tea on the roof of India Today with pals today. The view of the majestic Connuaght Place was splendid. Despite the maddening humdrum and a flood of commercialization, the arcade still exudes an old world charm. It brings back memories of good old days when everything was so simple and uncomplicated. The sky over the place was stunning. There was a passel of grey clouds, which seemed to conspire with each other to block the Sun. Only a buttery salmon dot was visible. People paced about in the inner circle. I looked away.
Late in the night, reading something interesting, I wondered if I annoyed people. Though it is hard to tell in matters where one is himself a party. I recall of Charles Baudelaire, the French Poet of Decadent and Parnassian movements –- who wrote Les Fleurs du Mal (1857) – ‘The world only goes round by misunderstanding’. How true? In human intercourse the tragedy begins, not when there is misunderstanding about words, but when silence is not understood.
Life. Too short. Gasps.