These pink blossoms, with its sweet fragrance, invite me oft, to be gently plucked. I refrain and ponder, will it bleed? will i be blamed? for its severance?
No, a voice inside me says, it’s nature, it bears the pain wearing a smile, giving it all it has, to others, forever, every single time.
p.s. these are the new blossoms from our garden. plush, fragrant roses. absolute magical. #randomwords
It’s slowly beginning to feel like summer, warmer days, after those wintry shorter days. Spring just passed by, bringing in loads of rain(of course, they are essential for the growing plants in Spring but this was unusually never-ending) alarming us of the climate change/crisis all over the world, as I hear/read about sudden weather calamities.
Anyway, we can only do our small bit, that’s not enough I know, but they say, a small drop also makes a difference. This post however, isn”t about weather or climate crisis either but somehow intertwined, as I started with seasons. Today, I wanted to write about this natural bunch of beauty – how i enjoy this spring/summer time, that bursts with flowers/tulips/roses/wild ones, peonies, and so many of them. These ones are not yet from my garden, but, soon they will adorn my table tops too & every corners of the house. These daisies I picked them during my walk, from a nearby large open field, full of margaritas, daisies and wild flowers majorly left for the bees.
On plucking the flowers, I remember the beautiful lines of Rabindranath Tagore;
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.
It may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of pain from thy hand, and pluck it.
I fear lest the day end before I am aware & the time of offering go by. Though its colour be not deep and the smell be faint, use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is no time.
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
Whenever I hear old chronicles of love, its age-old pain,
Its ancient tale of being apart or together.
As I stare on and on into the past, in the end you emerge,
Clad in the light of a pole-star piercing the darkness of time:
You become an image of what is remembered forever.
You and I have floated here on the stream that brings from the fount.
At the heart of time, love of one for another.
We have played along side millions of lovers, shared in the same
Shy sweetness of meeting, the same distressful tears of farewell-
Old love but in shapes that renew and renew forever.
Today it is heaped at your feet, it has found its end in you
The love of all man’s days both past and forever:
Universal joy, universal sorrow, universal life.
The memories of all loves merging with this one love of ours –
And the songs of every poet past and forever.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?” – Mary Oliver
It took sometime to actually think, after I came across this quote on Goodreads. What do I plan to do with this one wild and precious life… ? All my bucket list started popping up… I want to do this .. and that….but, all in all, want to live life to the fullest, would make every moment a special one, add different colors to life, explore the world, become a wanderer and then at some point in time, ignoring all the worldly affairs, I would simply want to sit back and drink the nature’s chalice of joy…and jot down my experiences under the bright, sunny and azure sky, overlooking a green pasture.
P.S. No harm in being an absolute dreamer. 😉 BTW, please share if you can, what is it YOU plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
To be so strong that nothing
can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness, and prosperity
to every person you meet.
To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.
To think only the best, to work only for the best,
and to expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.
To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.
To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear,
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
To think well of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world,
not in loud words but great deeds.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.” – Christian D. Larson
I had the golden opportunity to meet Gulzar Sa’b, at the Blr Lit fest, this season. And believe me, I could not have been happier meeting anyone else on earth. His poetry has always mesmerized me, and after meeting him, I am in complete awe of this man. It actually left me wondering, if men … do exist with such a fine demeanor and eloquence..! Do they? In reality? 😀
Look at his face, it exudes such wisdom, poise and charm. And, his aura is equally infectious when you meet him up, close & personal – Very humble, polite and grounded.
The charming Man
“Dil dhoondhta hai, phir wahi, fursat ke raat din” (Once more, my heart yearns for those leisurely days) – The Great Gulzaar Sa’b (If you can… listen to the music. It will stir up your mind surely)
And in despair I bowed my head;
There is no peace on earth, I said;
For hate is strong, And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!
The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!
The faraway moon, round and full. A balmy evening, with the sky just rinsed after a brief shower. And there were sweet-smelling miniature jasmine flowers, which bloomed and filled the air with its intoxicating fragrance.
The Glorious Moon
The glorious moonlit night had just dawned. She relaxed, with a hardcover classic book and swayed gently in her rocking chair, reading sometimes and blissfully looking outside with dreams in her eyes -Myriad of dreams to be fulfilled.
P.S. This image of the full moon, is by far the best shot of mine, I think. 🙂 It was taken a few weeks ago though.
Rabindranath Tagore, has been so powerful with his words that I wonder often, how could he envisage the most pertinent human emotions of all? How did he so effortlessly weave the magic of deeply profound and sensitive feelings into a fine string of words? How did he?
Here’s a fine translation of the Bengali poetry by the legendary poet Rabindranath Tagore;
Age after age, hast Thou, O Lord, sent messengers again and again into this pitiless world. And they have said ‘Forgive all’, said ‘Love.’ ‘Kill rather the poison of hatred inside you.’ Worth admiration, worth remembrance, all; yet I turn them away With failed greetings from my door on this dark day.
For I have seen secret hatred murder the helpless Under the shade of hypocrisy For I have seen redressless crimes of the powerful Make silent justice weep furtively. For I have seen frenzied young boys Die in agony dashing their heads against stone, to no use.
My voice is choked today, my flute songless, A black moonless prison has submerged my world into a nightmare. So in tears I ask Thee: Those who poisoned Your air, those who extinguished Your light, Is it that You have forgiven them? that You have come to love them?
Thank you P, for this beautiful piece on your blog!
Do we really forgive?
I believe so. But my heart contradicts.
It says how can you forget all the pain?
Those miserable days, which you’ve strived in?
Do you have the nerve to forgive?
I say yes…I want to let go off,
And free myself of excessive burden,
Undue baggage and rest in peace.
When there’s nothing much to do,
I write.
When there’s a lot ahead,
I write.
When the going is not great,
I write.
When the life looks bright,
I write.
I write to capture the moments,
through my words.
I write to voice my thoughts,
through my words.
I simply love the words,
and hence I write.
* Enid refers to the famous British children’s writer – Enid Blyton. I still adore her books and read them once in a while to rejoice the joy of childhood days.