About “I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees….”

29 07 2007

This strictly is not a poem… I am breaking rules …….

I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees…. ”

–  Pablo Neruda , “Every Day You Play” (Juegas Todos las Días), from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair [ Viente Poemas de Amor y una Cancion Desperada] (1924)

When I heard these words first, I did not know what spring meant or how a cherry tree will look like.  …….
I was just a kid, and like any kid wanted to see through words …..
When I asked my mother she said, “trees blossom in spring ….”
I imagined the finest time in our place when plants blossom and there is exist an aura of nature at best.
I liked the beauty of of spring in my unlimited space and time; enjoyed and admired it.

She was my best friend in my innocent days …..
Why she was, was unrepresentable and unknown; perhaps by some  more to be known chemistry of life’s molecules . ….
She was my best company for all childhood games.
When we played ‘the little hut’, I told her a few words,
Some unformatted sentence like, “I love to be with you and feel to make this place something that onam does to our garden plants ….”
She smiled and for a moment imagined …….
She granted me a kiss and told me that she found in me then something cute and lovable as her little new born sister; something she loved to be with ……..
For a moment all imposed structures that ruled life broke and melted down ….
We, two 4 year olds found more meaning about life which then we could not comprehend ……
And a year after we parted for ever …. …………..

Years later when this was what I wanted to tell somebody,
All barriers played with mind in their turns,
And I had long broken most but one for ever …..
My eduction restricted me to spell it the way I wanted- that education that we are not just men and women,
But a thousand invented rules about what to express exist;
That if not, I am being uncouth ……….

Now, when I see through those cultured mannerisms we ought to follow,
I wonder about the hypocrisy.
About life and its eternal force I shouldn’t talk;
About why we are here, I can’t utter;
And about that yet-to-be-known chemistry of love, it still lies as the forbidden fruit;
And in each of our expressions that inlined phrase is not beauty, but a taboo …..
I wonder about world …!
But still I say to love is that unknown urge to see a tree blossom;
The urge to be the spring which would bring smiles
With emotions, with words and with the body ………..

To say “I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees…. ”
And we do not end there too ……….


Why Crack a Mirror?

22 07 2007

Of late, I stepped across the broken pieces of a mirror
The plane that reflected truth of images uncountable
Lay shattered by the punch of denial; by the fist of vanity.
Who did it and why?
Questions pounced mind distracting every rationale to look closely.
But to look I must……
I saw no one but myself in those fragmented pieces,
Rough and crude those seemed, but reflected just what others saw as me.
I saw nothing unfamiliar, nothing ugly too.
Long enough to be conditioned to believe us as our images, I longed to cry.
I cried.
I saw my tears through the silvered glass fragments,
Then I saw my smile, thinking about the futile tears I wasted.
I saw my calm expression from the part of the whole
The whole was expressed in parts, but only when I looked closer.
The whole lives as life of cracked pieces,
To find the eternal jigsaw puzzle that assimilate the meaning of meanings …..
So live,
To show the mirror the smile, the calmness and occasional tears.
But not to crack it;
Live to put the fragments together………