Flitting images of a year that has just gone by
Crowd my mind as I lie in the box that I have dreaded for the year before.
They create a mural made of small mosaics,
Much like that magic garden in a city where some loved ones live.
A particular step of an old forgotten monument framed by crumbling walls,
with a book in my hand,
It did not have to be so forsaken, had it got the king it was meant for.
The king could not come back, once he left.
He longed for it for 4 years,
The building has been mourning him since.
A crowded street, an excited group, a riot of smells and kaleidoscope of images.
Rushing through to the end of the street and then tracing back one's own footstep craving for some more....
A temple safely tucked away in a silent corner of a bustling street for a millennium.
The monkeys that climbed down its walls to give company to the lone visitors.
A serene lake which held the sky and the mountains in the horizon,
The same way that we hold our friends in distant places in our hearts.
Their images are as unflinching as that of the mountain in that tranquil lake.
The world walks around. The image stays.
Except may be on clouded days, when the water can't reflect anything.
Then the rain that seemed it would never stop and a dark blue umbrella that made a personal cloud,
Under that big dark cloud that covered the sky.
It reminded me of another monsoon afternoon, which left a group of friends so badly drenched,
It seemed we all had given in to the might of the rain.
It always makes me wish that we gave in to the might of rain more often.
I wish we could believe, life does not melt away when we stand in rain.
Then that group of laughing adults in a lush green ground that included a teenager
Their laughter attracted curious looks from the locals, in the mid-day heat.
It was an odd group whose features varied as far and wide as they could.
The stories one heard during the year.
The stories that could not make space in popular history books
The stories of hope, the stories of defeat,
The stories stories of search; both personal and mundane.
I witnessed myriad forms of love.
Some that killed each other in numerous ways, every day.
That murderous emotion still demanded the tag of love.
So did the ones that demolished others all around.
I could think of those times when I was fortunate enough to hear
something beyond "I am fine" ....
That word combination that should be sued for most gross destruction of truth in modern times!
And the times when I was unfortunate enough to understand some love stories as they should never have been understood.
Images of me standing up for others. Images of me failing myself.
The tables one could turn within a year (with big laugh!)
The chairs that still need to be shaken a bit.
But good to have a list!
As I start another year with some smiling faces to fill my eyes and a forehead to kiss,
Emerging from that much dreaded box, I look forward to paint another mural
That would fill this ever broadening horizon of life.....
Crowd my mind as I lie in the box that I have dreaded for the year before.
They create a mural made of small mosaics,
Much like that magic garden in a city where some loved ones live.
A particular step of an old forgotten monument framed by crumbling walls,
with a book in my hand,
It did not have to be so forsaken, had it got the king it was meant for.
The king could not come back, once he left.
He longed for it for 4 years,The building has been mourning him since.
A crowded street, an excited group, a riot of smells and kaleidoscope of images.
Rushing through to the end of the street and then tracing back one's own footstep craving for some more....
A temple safely tucked away in a silent corner of a bustling street for a millennium.
The monkeys that climbed down its walls to give company to the lone visitors.
A serene lake which held the sky and the mountains in the horizon,
The same way that we hold our friends in distant places in our hearts.
Their images are as unflinching as that of the mountain in that tranquil lake.
The world walks around. The image stays.
Except may be on clouded days, when the water can't reflect anything.
Then the rain that seemed it would never stop and a dark blue umbrella that made a personal cloud,
Under that big dark cloud that covered the sky.
It reminded me of another monsoon afternoon, which left a group of friends so badly drenched,
It seemed we all had given in to the might of the rain.
It always makes me wish that we gave in to the might of rain more often.
I wish we could believe, life does not melt away when we stand in rain.
Then that group of laughing adults in a lush green ground that included a teenager
Their laughter attracted curious looks from the locals, in the mid-day heat.
It was an odd group whose features varied as far and wide as they could.
The stories one heard during the year.
The stories that could not make space in popular history books
The stories of hope, the stories of defeat,
The stories stories of search; both personal and mundane.
I witnessed myriad forms of love.
Some that killed each other in numerous ways, every day.
That murderous emotion still demanded the tag of love.
So did the ones that demolished others all around.
I could think of those times when I was fortunate enough to hear
something beyond "I am fine" ....
That word combination that should be sued for most gross destruction of truth in modern times!
And the times when I was unfortunate enough to understand some love stories as they should never have been understood.
Images of me standing up for others. Images of me failing myself.
The tables one could turn within a year (with big laugh!)
The chairs that still need to be shaken a bit.
But good to have a list!
As I start another year with some smiling faces to fill my eyes and a forehead to kiss,
Emerging from that much dreaded box, I look forward to paint another mural
That would fill this ever broadening horizon of life.....
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