Unlike the leaves of autumn, that see fit, to fall in only one season,
Very unlike the swinging moods of winter, that shift for no reason,
Not at all like the hunger of summer, that doesn’t spare even the moon,
It builds up drop by drop, like the preparations for every monsoon.
At first I ignore it, mocking it for being just a single drop,
But soon enough, there come others, and they wouldn’t stop,
Born as they were, from the shimmering reflection of every sorrow I bore,
The eyes just seemed to ignore them, calling them simply more of the before.
I did not truly understand them, until the reached the very edge,
They were the words my eyes kept trying, to push over their ledge,
Trying hard to whisper, express, shout out every pain that stained them,
Every grief imprinted on them, their own speechlessness was to condemn.
But the curtains of their eyelids will only stay down for so long,
It is only when they overthrow my will, I know they’re so strong,
Once adrift, they pay heed to neither propriety nor shame,
For, their fury once unleashed, only the fullness of time, can tame.
They race to the earth, washing over everything on their way,
All those dreams, hopes, frustrations, my mind force me to never say,
Don’t know if it was relief, or trepidation, that they finally saw light of day,
They no longer had to beg for their redemption, and everyday only pray.
Bathing in the flood of their expression, they clear the path, for new memories,
And thought they would now only survive as an adjective in my rarely told stories,
They would rather that, than stay bottled in my mind and stagnate,
Till the day enough of them, bear enough, to break the floodgate.
This one is dedicated to a Beacon, after quite a while. K.S. Chitra. For her transcendent rendition in countless songs, more specifically, Yemaaye Na Kavitha and Doboochulatelara from Priyuraalu Pilichindi. The pristine clarity in diction and perfect enunciation and stress on each word, make every syllable, a treasure to receive. But otherwise, this one is about the journey every tear undertakes based on the temperament and sensibilities each of us has. For some of us, it is the first resort, for others, it is the last, for some not at all. This one is from my recollections of the last time i cried, i can’t even think back to when that was. But whenever this was (atleast 10-12 years back), these are my recollections of the moment. It was not from pain, sorrow, or just plain expression. It was from the breakdown of my own shame, at having borne the tears for years on end, and never letting them see release. It was the breakdown of my will to appear strong, not because nobody was looking, but because i wasnt looking any longer.
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