Friday, May 18, 2007

Knocking on heaven’s door.

The smallest thing makes me cry these days.

Look what happened the other day.

In the fading light of the day, when my cousin and I sat on the steps and he took out his flute and played me a song. Till then all was fine. When the sharp tones and harsh edges were smoothened by painful practice and afterwards when all that was left was the shadow of the music, he told me- that was your favorite song, wasn’t it? I remember. I practiced it for you.

I wish I had forgotten. When my eyes brimmed with tears, he played me another song. His favorite.

When I wiped the dust off my uncle’s gramophone and thought of the old music we used to listen to, I searched for the old records. I never found them. That evening while waiting for the rain, I heard the rasping voice of a singer crooning in sultry tones on our unused gramophone. Old records from a shop somewhere far far away. For me. We didn’t turn on the light in the parlor. My uncle and I sat in the dark and listened to Lata Mangeshkar call for a lover who would never perhaps come. Only the tears came.

Then when I looked through old albums full of forgotten people, faded sepia tones and the glue that held together all these people and some lost memories. I too would be soon one of those people in old albums- stiff smiles and no color. Myriad monochromes. All the pictures were happy pictures. The pain just couldn’t be captured.

And so I snuck it away. And sometimes wipe away the little translucent crystal droplets of pain.


Blogger Beena said...

i came across ur blog by chanz.. wow!! is what i can say. your catchy writing and narration somehow made me read more of ur old topics (though not all)..
Good Work poornima.

5:04 AM  
Blogger Preetha Nair said...

Beautiful! Am a regular here...
Keep writing Poornima.

7:45 AM  
Blogger Poornima said...

Hi, How r u?

8:03 AM  
Blogger Sparsh said...

You know the best part is that you can make tears look glamorous. This pain must have some origin but reading it does not make me sad, it makes me wallow some more in the sweet-sourness of all that life is.


10:45 AM  
Anonymous Gous said...

Dai me your contact number to my office id or yahoo id ma. wanna talk to you.

1:37 PM  
Blogger Sudarshan. A. G. said...

Transcience. Gets to you.

Many heads have been banged against. Spare yourself.

9:21 PM  
Anonymous one among the crowd said...

hi poornima,

they say memories are golden, is it true?
well i never wanted memories, i wanted you......

tears are sweet and sour,
but it was the presence that mattered - of your...

11:51 PM  
Anonymous one among the criowd said...

hi poornima,

.....and the pain could never be captured...

1:31 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Refreshed!! after such a long break...miss u dudette! :)
u have my number...
-Singin' in the rain :D

3:20 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Very Nice :) as usual!

4:34 PM  
Blogger Prachith said...

hey sweetheart....a beautiful one as always...the ones that i love to read on n on.....

8:24 AM  

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