CHAINS

Speckled dusty bits of the horizon

Agonize behind the bars of their prison;

Freedom is their tainted tint,

Bonded forever with the shackles of the wind.

A pitch black pitcher, hollow and clean,

A pitch black hollow, no matter how clean;

Meaningless without a fluid, and yet,

Majestic pride swells its thorny chest.

Fields, deserts, mountains and seas

Scream in the vacuum among moving trees;

Silent words only ghosts can hear,

And shadows looming around in fear.

Who are you? He questions me again.

Oh! the quest for the answers insane!

With a shudder, the weeping of a thousand souls

Wakes me to face the volatile world.

Glow

How enigmatic is the placid smile

Hiding behind your silent lips?

A smile, is it, or the mute scream

Of a million emotions waiting to flee?

What mystery lies beneath

The twinkle in your eyes,

Questions for a cold fate

Or answers to a riddle unsolved?

A crumpled bundle of disarray,

Neatly tucked to adorn you

With scanty glitters of white,

As the black of your shadow follows.

Satin soft, you shine in the divine glow

Of a golden lamp, to light the path

Of a dear friend, a lost stranger, 

Or maybe a morbid foe.

Traffic - The Battle I fight Everyday

Do you ever wonder what would have happened if the tarred road we travel on everyday had feelings? If it were impatient like me, it would bubble in the wrath of being trampled by a thousand wheels. The sense of being handicapped and not being able to do anything about it would not make things any better. Otherwise, it would have to be one of the most patient beings on earth to withstand the piercing heat of the sun or the heavy downpours without complaining.

I love my two-wheeler. When I sit on it and drive, I feel good. Sometimes the wind makes weird noises near my ears and I try to interpret them. It seems to me as if Mother Nature is whispering Her secrets to me and I make efforts to decrypt them, all in vain. But this is one of the many connections I feel with Her, and even though I don't understand a word, it makes me realize how much a part of Her I am. Dreamy, isn't it? Well, it doesn't take long for the connection to break. Screech and halt, lo and behold! I'm back in the "real world"! What is it made of? Just like being woken from a peaceful slumber, at first I see nothing but a dusty mist. And then it unveils. I can hardly open my eyes and I try to transfer my gaze to any direction that would not pierce my eyes with bright yellow spikes. There they are - people! While driving to office, most of my fellow drivers are doing the same, with their ID cards hanging around their necks or sticking out of their pockets. Obviously, this means they are in a hurry, just like I am. Reason? Meeting, training, urgent work they couldn't finish the previous evening, or probably just not wanting to miss breakfast. There are others too, but somehow they aren't in a leisurely mood either. Every driver looks for an excuse to move just an inch further, sometimes even by using the footpath. Poor pedestrians! Then we have people trying to cross the road, cursing the drivers, and vice versa. Oh, and how can I forget? There are always those two fools - one who has to announce his arrival by honking his way to glory, and the other who loves to rebel by driving on the wrong side in a one-way lane.

Cars, motorcycles, buses, bicycles - they are everywhere! Right from the most ancient model to the latest one, even those without a registration number. It's nice to drive a bike, but it's the waiting part that makes you wish you were sitting cozily inside a vehicle with an air conditioner. I glance at the signal for the hundredth time, and it looks like a stubborn kid whose face is swollen and red, having thrown a tantrum and refusing to budge. I wonder if it's too late to take my helmet off. It is suffocating! But then, the green light may flash any moment now! Or am I being too hopeful? I should not have let my hair loose, at least that would have reduced the sweating. My extra shirt, my gloves - do they prevent my hands from tanning or "preserve" the heat in my body? Now, it's getting more stuffy. I wait a few more seconds and remove my helmet, just as the signal turns green. If the honker guy is behind me, that's it, I'm done for. After putting on my headgear and getting pretty embarrassed over attempting a few failed ignition starts, I can finally feel the wind near my ears again. Yes, I'm almost there, praying that the signal doesn't turn red again. Well, what do you think? There I am, near the crossroad, and the plump little red-faced devil reappears. The beads of perspiration trickle down my neck and I wonder when the rains are going to start. Then I tell myself - be careful, you don't know what you are wishing for! That is a different battle I have to fight altogether, on the same battleground. Oh God, the later, the better!

You

This translation was requested by a dear friend of mine. It was a tricky one. I hope I have done justice to it. You can listen to the song here.

Song: "Rehna Tu" from the movie "Delhi 6"

Rahman is truly a magician.

*** Start of P1 ***
Stay, oh stay the way you are-
A pinch of pain, a trace of tranquil.
Stay, oh stay the way you are-
A light breeze, a crazy passion.

Soft as silk, my darling,
And yet a little rough;
Sometimes stubborn
And ready to fight,
Sometimes full of fragrance.

Not the tiniest bit in you
Would I wish to change;
Neither could I decorate you,
Nor alter you in any way;
Not a speck less,
Not a speck more
Of what you are.

I have fallen in love
With the person that is you;
Let your rain drench me
And wash me away!
I have fallen in love
With the person that is you;
Let your flames engulf me
And turn me to ashes!
*** End of P1 ***

If you ever hurt me,
It is you who heals the wound,
The wound that my heart reveres;
O, let me drown in the river
Of your precious love!

Stay, oh stay the way you are-
A pinch of pain, a trace of tranquil.
Stay, oh stay the way you are-
A light breeze, a crazy passion.

If you ever hold my hand
And walk with me,
Would you put your right hand in mine?
For it would take one right hand
And the other, left
For us to walk hand in hand.

*** P1 repeat ***

My Grey

The virtuous man strikes again,
Spreading his word on the beggar’s tomb;
White and unstained is his robe,
Blessed by the gods of the worthy land;
The right, the right is what he does
To bring the vagabond home.

Here comes the shadow, malevolent and black,
Engulfing passages that once were free;
Withering flowers that earlier smiled
Gather their tears to water the seeds
That fell from their dry wombs;
Curses, curses under their breath!

A shrouded figure sitting in the dark
Lifts his head and smiles a naughty smile
That makes a virgin dance in the rain;
He trips her with his lanky staff,
Only to help her get up again;
He plays a magic harp that awakens
The dead from their deepest sleep,
And burns their ashes to the ground,
To make them rise from the flames;
His healing touch mends a broken heart,
And then, bruises it afresh,
To caress it with love renewed.

A bringer of tidings- good or bad?
A cursed blessing or a blessed curse?
The smoky rider of the unknown he is,
The mystical alien from a planet unseen;
A saint, a fiend, a hero, a villain,
My grey, my grey, O my grey he is!