यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया

कुछ पल मैं लौटा दूँ वक़्त को

की यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया.

धीरे धीरे ना जाने कब

मेरे आज पर हावी हो गया.

ज़िन्दगी की दौड़ से थक कर

कुछ पल चुराए थे छुप कर.

कुछ सुकूं सा मिला था दिल को

यादों की छाँव में रूककर.

लेकिन धीरे धीरे ये पल ना जाने कब

गुज़रे कल के हवाले हो गया.

कुछ पल मैं लौटा दूँ वक़्त को

की यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया.

एक कदम आगे, दो पीछे चलते रहे

नए पन्नो पर पुरानी कहानी लिखते रहे.

एक नयी सुबह की चाह में

बड़ी देर तक वो पन्ने मुझसे लड़ते रहे.

शब्दों से भरा वो पन्ना

उम्मीदों से खाली हो गया.

कुछ पल मैं लौटा दूँ वक़्त को

की यादों का बस्ता बहुत भारी हो गया.

Memories

Photo Credit - Asha Dimri

So true are the words said above, the world of memories is a puzzle. So far, yet so near...so real yet so surreal. It often plays hide and seek with our busy routines. Mostly present take over those memories but there are moments when those memories bounce back so profoundly that we forget every priority and surrender meekly to them. At times it feels like a shadow, it follows us where ever we go, a part of us that in an instant lives within us and in other leaves us.

A faint memory of my school days that still brings a smile to my face is of my school friend, Sheela. I was in 3rd or 4th standard, I don’t remember exactly. I forgot to keep my compass box that day. When I asked her if she has an extra pencil she smilingly handed me her pencil. After some time when I turned back, I saw she was just sitting. When asked, why she was not taking down the notes, she innocently replied “I had only one pencil’. That incident introduced me to a whole new relationship with her. It was innocence of childhood that she didn’t bother to miss her notes, that made me wait for her in the middle of running competition, that made our relation precious than our ambitions.  Her father was transferred in a short while. I was too small to realise that once lost I won’t be able to regain her contact. The only thing I realized at that time was the pain of departing. As much as I missed her I couldn’t regain her contact. Thanks to facebook it has reunited me with many lost friends but not Sheela, I don’t ever remember her last name, I spent hours searching for her just to feel disappointed and accept that she is no more a part of my life. And I am left only with faded memories of her innocent face and her two little knots tied in red ribbons - and of course our indefinable bonding.

Other faint memory I would like to share is of our little puppy; it was a street dog that I and my friend Dipali fed every day. We created a small house for him. Making him sleep in a blanket became a routine. Waking up early in the morning and rushing outside to see if he was safe became our biggest excitement, which we eventually lost when we lost him in a road accident. Days passed before I stopped crying, months passed before life became normal, years passed before I could forget his appearance but no time could steal his sweet memories from me.

These are just snapshots from the album of my memories - some sweet, some sour, of people who are still a part of my life, of people whom destiny took apart. I envy time, it has all those hidden moments captured in its existence; well, although it can take away the moments from me but memories are mine. It’s my little world wherein I can live everything I desired, I treasured, I lost. Shattered dreams, moments of joy, tears, laughter everything comes alive in a moment – it’s a world that I can visit but not stay. After all, memories are like tides and shores are like present; the tide comes and touches its shores, and moves back leaving it wet.

Forever...

Photo credit - Asha Dimri

He waved a goodbye to his family as he left for the war. But then before entering the train he walked back to his family. Goodbye becomes tougher when you are not sure it’s not the last one.

He tried hard to conceal his pain as he lifted his daughter and kissed her.

“Daddy, why is mumma crying?” she asked as he put her down.

“She will miss me.”

“Tell her you will come back soon and then we will stay together. Forever.” her brown eyes twinkled with hope.

Forever… the word lingered in the air, the weight of that word was so much that he couldn't reply.

“Promise?” she asked.

“Promise” He forced a smile and walked towards his wife.

“You promised me you will be strong.” He took her hand in his.

“It’s not easy but I am trying.” She couldn’t make it any more than a whisper.

They hugged before he got into the train. He wished the time to stop then and there, he wanted to spend some more time with her daughter, get amazed by her crazy talks, be with his wife and enjoy all the caring, be with his mother and support her through her last days but alas this wasn’t his destiny. Warfield was waiting for him with uncountable struggles.

He waved them as long as he could see them, and long after that. He wondered what his daughter must be talking about; moon or stars or dolls or fairies? He imagined his wife smiling at her crazy stories, imagined his mother singing lullabies to her daughter.  For he knew Imagination was the only place he could meet them; at least for a long time to come. Or forever?

He fought bravely for his country, for people he didn’t knew, for you, for me, for people who were not connected to him but still connected. But then one day in the war field, a small bullet robbed him of his big dreams.

And as his heartbeats slowed down…

The last sound he heard was the deafening noise of bombs and bullets…and then a dead silence in which echoed the sweet voice of his little princess…promise…

The last sight he saw was of countless dead bodies, smoke and dust….and then it all vanished…he saw her daughter running towards him, her favorite doll still in her hand.

The last touch he felt…of bullet… and once again he drifted towards imagination…touch of her tender hug… and with it he lost the touch of a desire to be with his family forever…forever…

Forever… the word reverberated as he closed his eyes, for the last time.

Death of a soldier is not a single death, it is death of a mother, a father, a sister, a wife, a child, it is death of a family, of uncountable dreams, thousand unmet promises and infinite hopes. A life goes out and a body returns; the pain is unfathomable, his family was a partner in his bravery and his sacrifices. Family of a soldier deserves a salute as well.

“Mumma, why papa is sleeping, why is he not talking to me?” the little princess asked when the dead body came home, unaware of what she has lost. 

Mumma had no reply for her painfully innocent questions; her questions only led mumma to cry louder.

Did I say something wrong? She wondered “I am sorry mumma, why are you crying? Actually it is good, he is sleeping so now he won’t go back. He will stay with me forever.” she pained mumma further in lieu of comforting her.

It would be long before she would understand that all her dreams to spend a life with her father were unreal, when she would see other children her age sitting on their dad’s shoulder she would just look around searching for her lost father. But…He was gone. Forever? The word was same but the meaning it carried was not, it transformed completely; from hope to pain and dreams to emptiness.

But in spite of all the diversity it entailed forever was not a fake word. He was gone and not yet gone. He lived forever in memories of his loved ones and in the freedom we are proud of.