Monday, April 22, 2013

Delhi's unsaid, unheard, unseen tears!

Hi, this is for my city, that I belong to..yes whatever maybe my roots, as every delhite is asked to, I belong to the city!! This is for the pain I experience every day when I hear about the crimes happening there, and how I want to sit on the soil and comfort myself...

You know me as 5000 years old, I have been the capital city, I Have seen wars; seen blood being shed; I have been destroyed and rebuilt. I have cried and tried to comfort my children, tried to tell them I am for all, I don't differentiate. I have seen my child yamnua dying a slow and poisonous death, however hard I have tried yet its my children only that have killed their life source. I have borne many pains but these days I am unable to bear anymore, the soil which still hadn't turned red will turn so now..

I don't understand such savagery, atleast savages who fought wars had a purpose, even if it was as vain as gaining control of my land, but what are these modern day savages doing? What did those innocent souls do to harm them, why oh why please answer me, for I have become old now, why did they rip them apart? For fun? for pleasure? in anger? I cry and cry, and still cant understand..can you answer?

I already carry the burden of being capital, of having borne the weight of those for whose wishes thousands have died, but now my face is covered with my own hands, I cringe when I hear my children saying that they dont want to live here, I feel ashamed that I have not been able to protect my beloved daughters, who fought courageously and I shiver when those savages walk on me, how many such are there? how much burden do I need to carry....

Long ago I had thought, that now the barbarism would stop, that now I would give shelter with my gentle tress, would play music with my warm breeze and would comfort my tired children when they sleep on my moist mud..and all I am doing is soaking the blood of my daughters, the music is of their screams.. I know I cant look them in the eyes..but all I want to say is..I am not the land of savages..I am the land of history, of dreams built like indraprastha and of hope like the qutab minar..dont turn your back on me..I have lots of love to give you..but yes I cant fight those savages..Yes I am ashamed they touch my soil..I wish I could swallow them..yet I hope one day I dont have to see my daughters brutalised..that I one day I finally can rest in peace!

Monday, April 15, 2013

A short love story!

Hi! This one is a sweet love story that I was fortunate to hear about from a very special person, my grandmother. Everytime I see, read or hear stories of apathy, of people being violent for no apparent reason, killing, raping other human beings, I think about this incident and it pacifies me and strengthens my belief that love does heal!!

She sat cross legged on the sofa engrossed in watching the family drama on the TV, her soft white hair framed her face beautifully, her dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief behind the heavy glasses that clouded her vision. She acted as if she didnt care, yet every two seconds she stole glances at the ever so still door. Today was something special, and she had dressed for the occassion, her orange sari with the dark green border contrasted well with her pale skin. She had worn the watch that he had given her 50 years back, it didnt work but it had her initials carved out which touched her skin everytime she rotated it.
The clock was about to strike 1, she noticed ruefully, her grandson would come anytime now..where was he? why did he had to go to meet someone today only? he would not even remember the occasion..but that was nothing new..she smiled to herself, but it was these things only that made him so special!

He waited outside the door, unsure whether to go inside with the gift in his hand, what would people think? He is almost eighty now, these things are for teenagers, yet everytime he saw her he felt like he still was one. What was about her that was so special, that still mystified him, even after 50 years. he straightened his blue kurta, which he had worn specially for the occasion, combed whatever was left of his hair again and rang the doorbell.

She opened it with the smile that had captivated him for all these years, he gave her yellow roses her favorite. she asked with childlike enthusiasm where is my gift?, "I haven't got any" he teased her, when she started to walk away, he held her hand and made her sit alongside him, I have something very special for you, that i have not been able to give you for past 50 years. He opened his wallet to take out an old worn out letter and read to her,

"The first time I saw you along with my brother, I was captivated, I wanted to hold your hand and say there only that I have fallen in love, before that I had not known what love was, what it felt like, but looking at you I realized it meant that all I ever want to do is to make you happy. I know i can only offer you a life of hardship, but trust me I will work to my level best to ensure you are happy and above all I will love you enough to see you are never sad. I hope you like me too, otherwise I wont know how to live.."

She was already laughing before he even ended, and he was angry, you dont have to make fun of it, I know it sounds stupid but..she took his worn out hand in hers and said quietly," You also should know a secret, I have already read this letter, my father had decided against the match, but your younger brother made me read this and I realized I wanted love more than my comforts..and after 50 years today I am glad of my decision, I have never said this but I like how they say it in movies.. I love you" and she blushed and rested her head on his shoulders...She had married an unknown stranger who was her best friend even after 50 years..Love does happen and it does make lives survives against the odds and against and it does make the world a better place to live!!