the dawn arrives….

I was sleeping one night and suddenly felt this emptiness all around mee...it was a magical moment...the whole world was painted black and there was no trace of a second color anywhere else apart from what I irked on myself…and then a little girl came from the darkness, with a palette and a brush in her hand and started painting all around mee...the darkness changed bright colors…there were rich hues and contrasts and a blend of colors all around me…it was magical…I woke up to discover myself sitting amidst dark…the little girl was like a spring of muse in the sheer dark night...my heart has longed to breathe fresh air…I longed for to change the world with the 'magic' brush...the absence had grown each day and now it can’t be contained… since then I had searched for the magic brush…the quest is still on…I want to paint this world with bright shades of life…the world is changing fast…getting crowded by materialistic thoughts…I shall not cease to chase shadows…I shall not stop uncovering the mist in front of me, to hunt for what I want…I shall keep recovering the rotten, untidy and damp corners of my memories and plow the images that deserves to be carefully contained…at times I have seen people surrendering to the pressures of the enormously challenging world dictating their senses…with each passing moment new relations had crept in their lives…new loyalty and newer responsibilities…and with them the earlier ones get shaded away…people take a back seat to lay behind the old relationships…unattended…forgotten...this is human nature in its cruelest form…but its competitive best…we name it as “rationally correct attitude” in today’s GLOBAL WORLD...we try to earn our daily bread and store some for the future…we try to provide security to our family…we try to be responsible…we try to accomplish the wishes of our family…parents, grandparents, siblings…we try to walk out of hollow relations and build fruitful ones…we try to hunt for victory, for gains, profits, accomplishments and honor…we try to create an identity of our own…a recognition unshaken, firm, successful, happy! The race to get things right continues, taking new shapes, new forms and new definitions…but the race goes on with the carrot dangling right in front of you…the night approaches at the end of dusk…the world turns dark, murky, isolated, gloomy and not worth exploring…not at least the little girl comes along with her colors and shades and contrasts and strokes…not at least till she waves her magic brush to things turn bright again...the dawn arrives….

Ode to Melancholy

NO, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;
Make not your rosary of yew-berries,
Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be
Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl
A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;
For shade to shade will come too drowsily,
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globèd peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

Ode to Melancholy…one of my very favorite poetries of John Keats…I had read Keats and loved him the more I read…I could relate the sadness with mee… I cherish every moment when I am sad…loneliness to me is a slow, damp wind that blows from the sea on a warm, humid day. It had always soothed mee…the grey sky makes it all ashy….there is such a deep bonding between quiet with wait…my heart waits for his return quietly…my waiting drenches in the quietness of night…giving birth to loneliness… melancholy…Now a day I am not scared of loneliness…I cherish being alone every moment…