Last night at the party...

-

Last night at the party
they asked me how I’d die
with a moan, they asked me,
or perhaps with a sigh?
Would there be a tear or two
rolling down the eyes
Would my heart be choking
With regret over lies

Would there be sorrow
over all those things unsaid
Or would it be trifle surprising
to finally find oneself dead?
Could I finally explain
to the stubborn naïve, heart
that it’s a set-up for teary noons
this promise - ‘until death do us part’?

I didn’t realize there was so much stuff
to sift through and to know
before finally winding up business
and getting all set to go
But I think I’d simply take the hands of life
and look her in the eye
and with my mind and heart in attendance
simply say ‘thank you and goodbye’
P.S. - These slippers are Anumita's slippers; this sand is Phuket sand.

Comments

Unknown said…
beautiful ...

bravo .. bravo ..
12:16 AM
Amak said…
you probably don't know me. i realised now that it's been 3 months or so that i coincidentally fell on your blog, and that i actually subscribed to it and that i read it with some sort of regular religiosity.
thought i'd leave a comment for once and say thanks for writing the way you write, and above all, for sharing it with other people.
7:10 AM
earth said…
lovely... and very poetic poetry..

the way u'v captured the thought and the sentiment is truly beatiful..
6:37 PM
Mukta Raut said…
hi all...

thank you!
9:29 AM
swati said…
Its so beautifully said that i fear that adding anything to it might temper the beauty of the feelings. I really wonder that what am I looking at, beauty in death or death in more beautiful expressions. Leaves me pondering over the futility of the whole process of it. But its such an overwhelming idea that it captures the mind and denies leaving it. What I’m really thinking is could we really think of it while on the last breath. I wish we all could get the boon of the Bheeshma in the Mahabharata to decide all that on that final bed where the bed sheet won’t matter whether its of velvet or the spears. When there’d be no surprises hidden in it but then I wonder won’t it really spoil the whole adventure of the journey. Anyway, again kudos for the bright thinking.
2:31 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Check (the) mate

-
My cousin, who was born sixteen hours before me, got married recently. I am expected to follow her footsteps soon. Thankfully, I have been granted more than sixteen hours to do that. My father’s health has taken a turn for the worse. My mother is completely exhausted. Rationally, points 1, 2, and 3 would be distinct from each other. But in my family there is no such thing as ‘rationally’. Therefore all these points are inter-related. Strangely, here, we believe my marriage to be an antidote to mortality and fatigue. I happened to be sitting in my parents’ room while Ma looked through Papa’s blood reports. They didn’t look good. Ma was worried and Papa didn’t help matters much. He kept talking about Sourav Ganguly and why he deserved better. Ma got further agitated and after flinging the reports somewhere inconvenient to retrieve (I should know), she snapped, “So what? There are many like him.” Papa doesn’t believe that and would have no one in his family believe that either. He went to
Read more

Not the same, all the same - Rang de Basanti, being a Hindu, uniform civil code, and Hostage – in that unrelated sequence

-
I watched ‘Rang de basanti’. That, however, is not the point. Everyone now wants to go to Delhi and cruise around in jeeps at night. And that too is not the point. I need to say something. That, really, is the point. ‘Rang de…’ is a good movie but frankly, I’ve seen better. I’ve seen ‘Yuva’. It is creditable, though, that the movie could say what it did without using the ‘sage on the stage’ (as we say in Instructional Design) approach. The movie does have a couple of ideas that I have been besotted with for a long time now. One is the life of a story. There is the germ of an idea about men who go to their deaths cheerfully. There is fascination about what could inspire such courage in ordinary people. That story lays inside a diary for a long time. How long? Long enough for history to play itself out and begin the process of repeating itself. A nation goes the ‘Animal Farm’ way – humans out, pigs in. The story lays untouched – fermenting in latent vigor. Then someone discovers it. She
Read more

Save the Indian (male) child

-
This isn't exactly a feminist tirade, but this is written by a woman, and it is written in annoyance. You raise your girls to be sweet, strong, and independent. (Wise parents teach their children to listen to opinions and discard or heed accordingly. The other ones just teach their kids to bullshit everything that everyone says. Still others bring up girls to be on guard and forget that spine so that everyone thinks well of them. I am not sure which is worse, but I detest people shoving their opinions down other people's throats in a show of liberation, so I'll lean towards the former. But only slightly.) As the gender construct of being a 'female' is pushed even further, you teach your daughter complicated activities – driving, perhaps, sending them off away from home, wearing a sari (those freaking pleats!), cooking and de-veining prawns for added advantage. At the end of that, you have a person who genuinely dislikes blending into anything, doesn't like bei
Read more