Posts Tagged ‘hurt’
Addicted
I have an admission to make,
I have a problem,
It took some time to realize,
I am addicted to you.
I close my eyes and there you are,
I open my eyes and there you are,
Like a shadow you follow me,
I am addicted to you.
When you hurt me,
It makes me long for you more,
You give pain, I enjoy,
I am addicted to you.
I tried therapy, no help,
I tried ignoring you, more pain,
It just is not going away,
I am addicted to you.
The smell, Oh! The sweet smell,
I can’t fathom something else,
The smile, glows my day,
I am addicted to you.
There were times when,
I tried to forget you, hurt deep,
Ended up memorizing more,
I am addicted to you.
There seems no hope, hopeless,
Not sure if you will stand by me,
Still I can’t dare leave,
I am addicted to you.
The day I cried
What is the most passionate human emotion? Love, happiness, anger, sadness would be some guess perhaps. Well, not exactly. It would be tears. The singlemost, strong emotion on earth. You feel happy, Tears of joy. You feel sad, Tears of sorrow. You feel angry, unable to control yourself, Tears of madness. You fall in love, Tears of passion. You feel hurt, Tears of pain. You are caught red handed, Tears asking for forgiveness. When someone departs, Tears of loss. When your child excels, Tears of pride. The list is endless. Tears span all emotions.
Let me admit at the onset, I do cry sometimes. Not in public though. After all I have to keep my male ego going. I have never even imagined myself doing so. Would be a highly embarrassing moment. Or so I thought!
Last time I remember myself crying was when my grandfather died. I was in my hostel room when my sister called me. The tears just flowed, they were spontaneous. But it all got over with no one around.
This time it was an auspicious and public occasion. My sisters wedding. I was busy with arrangements and couldn’t foresee what was to come. It was the Ladies Sangeet function. Few words about this Ladies Sangeet. It is organized as a pre-wed ritual on a grand scale in North. Stage is set up. Professional dance and music troop is called. Everyone from the family is supposed to dance. However good or bad it might be.
I am not a type to dance or sing. So I decided to duck via what I could do. Say a poem. Little did I know that it would prove to be my nemesis. There wasn’t enough time so I jotted down a few lines and added tit-bits from my older writings. Everything seemed fine. I was through with most of the lines. I had just described an incidence from our childhood and there were awes all around.
As I reached the end where I chastised her for deserting us, something happened. I can’t describe it. I tried to resist myself, cautious of being on stage and eyes staring at me. Couldn’t help it. The tears followed. What a Man was I!
I managed to finish the poem just in time to see my crying sister rushing towards me. And the worst part, I was forced to dance too. Here is what I wrote.
कुछ सुनो तो कुछ में कहूं कहानी,
मैं बीच रस्ते चेंटा था,
कुछ हठ था भरा कुछ रूठा था,
मुझे था वही खिलौना लेना,
जिस में थे दो तोते और एक मैना|
पैसे थे चार जरूरतें थी दस,
मैं रो रो कर चिंघडाया था,
माँ ने भी थप्पड़ लगाया था,
तभी किसी ने प्यार से थपकाया था,
माँ मुझे कुछ नहीं है लेना,
भैया का बस चुप कर दो रोना|
वैसे भी ऐसा क्या मांगे वो,
बस दो तोते और एक मैना,
बस दो तोते और एक मैना|
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आज तू बिदा हो है चली, बाबुल का घर छोड़ के,
बनाने चली तू नए रिश्ते, पुरानों से मुहँ मोड़ के,
कुछ और देर तक रहती तो, मिल बैठ के बातें करते हम,
कुछ बात पुरानी कहता मैं, कुछ गम मिल-जुलकर करते कम,
कुछ और देर तक रहती तो (सिसक-सिसक), मिल बैठ के बातें करते हम,
कुछ बात पुरानी कहता मैं, कुछ गम मिल-जुलकर (सिसक-सिसक)…”
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