Skip to main content

Mathura Wali

When the hymns are sung and Krishna comes to life, when the chants reach the skies and the incense smells divine, I ask HIM if HE knows how this story ends. Pat comes the reply with a smile, and then, silences fill-in where noises until now ruled.

Where one story ends, the other begins. Its a book that I could read for ever and forever will the pages run. I have seen the edge of the world, it is round. If I start tonight, I would simply come around. Caught among the strings of chapters intertwined, is one meandering life.

Comments

  1. This is such a beautiful piece of writing Rajesh! I really loved it. :-)

    Thanks for your visits to my blogs, it is always good to see you there.

    I hope all is well with you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Sometimes more is understood in the space of silence.
    You have written beautiful words and included a beautiful circling picture.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular Posts

Hush

You don't have to tell me. I just know. Its that little sniffle that comes through The unexplained pauses The slow responses I know when you call Just because you needed to cry.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda, You would have smelt of summer roses And Autumn pine. There would have been sheer love Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache And loneliness bordering the divine. You would have had so many secrets Welling up as in a girly giggle And so few friends who would hear them all. I am no Neruda I can't paint you a Summer breeze Amidst this long winter chill.

Travelers All

Not all days are the same. There are those nameless faceless ones that are born out of ennui and quickly fly into oblivion. Nothing good comes from them. All they do is burn rubber. They don't take us closer to our destination. Then there are those days when the skies open up. There is an earth scattering screech, the kind you know will give way to a loud bang. Scarred for life you limp along, again. Crying over those who died and hurting for those who refused to ride with you again, you ride, for this is the only option you have known. And then there are those rare rare fairytale days. The ones that starts off without a cause but go on to transform themselves into days of momentous impact. These are those days that leave behind magical memories. That feeble hint of a smile amidst deep furrows of pain are from days as these. Travelers in time that we are, let's pray for short burst of sunshine and a fair share of fairy tale days.