Tears

“Do you write poems?” if someone asks this to me I can’t actually answer this question in a solitary word as Yes on No. It’s all about the frequency of writing poems. I started writing poems 6th or 7th grade I think; but never took it to serious level. I wrote another Marathi poem ‘Pazaay’ in my engineering 2nd year and that was published in college year book and that I would consider my first poem. Many people liked that and told me to continue with writing those. I donno. I am not like that person who can write good poem whenever he wants. I can’t force my self and that’s the reason my second poem was after almost more than seven years (yes you read it right) gap from the first one. So here it goes for you.

Poem is in Marathi so for all my non-marathi friends I will try to explain it to my level best but I am damn sure I can’t express those feelings in English. I will try to get as closer as I can.

अश्रू

होऊ दे अश्रू पुन्हा,
डोळ्यातून तुझ्या रडू दे;
ओझरता थेंब तो ओंजळीत
क्षणभर पापण्यात नडू दे...

वाटेत सुखांच्या मी,
दुखांना कुरुवाळीत गेलो;
अस्तीर त्या धूख्याना
आता तरी गळू दे...

वेडाचे भस्म माथी,
होवोनी फकीर हिंडलो;
पींड तुझ्या हाताने
झोळीत माझ्या पडू दे...

शेळ्या कोम्बळ्याची झुंज,
हर्षे पहिली मी सारी;
यातना भोगावयास माझ्या
माझे मलाच लढू दे...

उदयास सुर्य येईल,
एक दिवस तो सुजाण;
आहुती होऊनी आता
सरणावर एकटाच जळू दे...

भय कोणा नको निशेचे,
कोन्डत त्या स्मशाणात;
वेली बकूळ फुलांची
थडग्यावर माझ्या दरवळू दे...

ओझरता थेंब तो ओंजळीत, क्षणभर पापण्यात नडू दे...
ओझरता थेंब तो ओंजळीत, क्षणभर पापण्यात नडू दे...

Theme: Repent or something like that. I am a person (in poem) who has enjoyed his life as he wants. I didn’t care damn about anyone. In fact I hurt many and countless knowingly and didn’t felt anything about any one of them at all. Now I am at the end of my life. When I glance back I see what I have done in my life; all the picture is blood red. I am sure that no one can forgive me no matter what I do now and hence I am not apologizing to any one at all. I have something to say or but can’t say anything to anyone. So I am just wishing my last wish.


Poem title: Tears

Stanza 1:
Let me become tears and cry through your eyes.
But before I drop in you palms, let me rest a moment on your eyelids.

Stanza 2:
While walking on the path of happiness, I cuddled many grieves.
Let those wobbly fogs reconcile at least now.

Stanza 3:
With ashes of craziness on my forehead, I wandered like itinerant.
(Now this line is difficult to explain. In India when a person die, his relatives will give a piece of food to crows as a ritual and when crows eat that, people think that the immortal soul will get Mukti(freedom) and will RIP in heaven. That piece of food is called ‘pind’ in Marathi and the old cloth bag which beggar or nomads use for collecting food is called ‘Zoli’.)
Let the ‘Pind’ fall in my ‘zoli’ with your own hands.

Stanza 4:
I have seen lot many fights of goats or cocks (cockfighting was popular rural activity in old times for entertainment and some of the cocks will die in those fights.) and I saw them very happily.
Let me fight my self alone now to bear all these pains and aches.

Stanza 5:
There will be sunrise of sprite (fairness) one fine day.
But at least let me burn myself in crematorium unaided like an ‘Aahuti’ used in ‘Yagnya’. (‘Aahuti’ is the wood/dried twigs used in burning sacred fire or yagya which is Hindu ritual before starting any auspicious or important work. It is done in a belief of keeping all troubles away from this important task undertaken.)

Stanza 6:
Let there be no fear to anyone in that dread crematory.
Let the vine of ‘Bakuli’ bloom on my grave. (‘Bakuli’ are tiny white flowers with sweet fragrance which you can smell from a long distance)

Before I drop in you palms, let me rest a moment on your eyelids.
Before I drop in you palms, let me rest a moment on your eyelids.

Disclaimer: This poem is just an expression of my thoughts considering a virtual character. It has no relation close or distant to my life or anyone’s life or death with or without creeper of or any flowers or thorns on his or her grave. May this virtual being RIP.