Not in my DNA definitely......
But,
as i pluck at the strings,
eyes sting,
blurs for a while,
an ache,
that seems to stay
deep down,
and as i pluck at the strings,
seems to surface
afresh,
memories washing ashore,
words
in mid air,
said and unsaid,
as i pluck at the strings,
of my leaden heart....

Power of words...

" I am restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim
distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am
bound in this spot evermore.

I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not
the winged horse.

I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine
takes shape in the blue of the sky!
O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in
the house where I dwell alone!"

Tagore (The Gardener)

If it can be so soul stirring in English, cannot but imagine, how it would be in Bengali, the original!

Misty Drops

The lovely, shy coconut palms dripping wet, appear to huddle together, even as their fronds seem to tremble and quiver in the cold. They looked beautiful, as did the whole misty damp scene. Led me to think, how different they are from the stark, stiff, bulky counterparts found here, maybe coz they have never been touched and caressed by the gentle rain drops from above? Or been swayed and drenched by the gentle and sometimes brutal wet draughts of wind? Or had the gurgling muddy water lap at their feet, maybe tickling them, for days together? Reminded me of a bevy of young maidens, beautiful and laden with tales untold!

The long, winding muddy ropes as seen from above was a surprise, to say the least. Almost looked like the amazons, huge and feisty. And loved the muddy, red earthy colour of the soil, looking all squelchy and mushy, with tiny pools, almost made me want to dip my fingers in, to get the feel of it!

Whizzing by lands, homeland and new found ones, wondered how the heart gets tugged and pulled by infinite strings, and each tug is a pleasure!

Glimpse of Heaven

The angular metal sheet, mars my view.
Not my delight.
As I gaze, in a daze,
The vision, the awesome sight.

‘Heaven above’ conjured up eons ago;
This is it; this truly is.
If so,
Where are the Gods?
The St.Peter’s Gate, or
Our own Tridevs?

White, soft, fluffy, clumps…
When touched though, retorts
with quite a few bumps!

Some seated, all sedate,
As if, for posterity.
While, the wispy ones,
Seemed all in a hurry.

Some not as curvaceous,
As streaks, or waves,
Lapping the shores,
But in silent ways.

And thus I descend,
On to earth.
Having been, to heaven
And back.

It’s there, for me to soar,
In my dreams;
When I would need,
Some quiet and peace.

The cracked sods
Watch the clouds drift by;
Thirsts for the drench,
And then it pours.

Are they the passing clouds,
Shifting clouds,
Transient clouds,
Grey clouds.

When it falls pitter-patter,
The earth heaves
And trembles.
Bursts and blooms,
Blushes and glows.

The summer shower
Paints the scape
In iridescent hues.
But comes with
The blues.

Veil

The glazed eyes
Startle.
What, oh what doth
lies beyond
Those kohl lined,
Shaded lids?

Searing pain,
Of quelled dreams;
A misty desire,
for untread realms;
A search futile
for the lost soul;

As the trails sweep
the marbled floors,
she seems to carry along;
An air laden with,
frozen senses, greyed horizon,
doused fire, a stilled heart.

Maybe
Shes happy,
the reigning queen
in her castle.
Maybe not.

Maybe one is.
And the other
Not.

For
They don’t always come
in shades of black,
Or in visible forms,
The veil.