A Lover’s Seasons

Weeping Woman, Pablo Picasso (1937)

Summers and years of loyalty
her love froze his heart
she would just sit and wonder why
she would have willingly given up her life for him
but her life and sacrifices
were of no value to him
the thunderbolt of Zeus
should have struck her dead
when she realised the reason for his coldness
her heart froze too
with too much of hurt deep within
she smiled lest people should notice her tears
but too many winters
rejuvenated her heart
it got warmer
now she has learned to hear and
love the melodies
in the wind
in the brook
in the chirping of birds
in the laughter of a stranger
and sweetest are the melodies
she hears in the silence
her heart did grow warm again
years apart
she finds contentment
in his happiness
in his new life
he loves another woman
but it isn’t important -she loves him
love lasted till the heartache season
heartache will last till the next love season

Life is fair

Courtesy: Sonam Palden

You stand in a moment
you are frozen
the gentle breeze of life
flutters the edges of your memories
you unfreeze
your roots grow deeper
into the ground of your past
your wings grow further
into the sky of the future
to see the silver linings
of clouds on a gloomy day
to realize every cloud has a silver lining
even during the darkest hour
then life stretches out
to take you in its warm embrace
for you are one of its child
it will teach you what you need to learn
but it will never put your way
what your heart cannot handle
life is fair

(Found in the dust collected collection from here and there.)

The Independent Woman

Courtesy: PaSsu

You have seen her walk
down the street
tall on her feet
sexy in her moves
noble in her thoughts
beautiful in her actions
an aroma about her
you may sometimes envy her
for the way she carries herself
for her graceful steps
she is everything a human should be
free, independent, strong, different, smart, humourous
beneath all the skins she wears
she wishes people see
how hurt she is at times
despite all the strength she possesses
how stupid she is sometimes
in spite of her smartness
how at times she wishes a strong arm to hold and lead her
despite her independent nature
how ordinary and common she is
just like every other human
how at times her tears flow
under the cover of her humour
how the society tries to cage
her free soul
she knows her place
she would raise a family on her own
feed a village single handedly
yet she would not whine
living a life isn’t difficult
living in a man’s world is
often she is trampled upon
yet she will walk
tall on her feet
sexy in her moves
noble in her thoughts
beautiful in her actions
and down the street
people will turn their heads
to look at
the independent woman

That Life, That World

An unlit traditional Bhutanese Hearth, abandoned in an old house

Come and sit by me
I will tell you a story or two
of the days when world was different
when birds flew freely
when rivers flowed clear
when the clouds moved to grace the blue sky
when the moon shone the brightest in the night sky
when little boys and little girls played into dark
safely
of the times when strangers smiled at each other
when a young person stopped to help an old lady
of the times when mothers suckled her child at her breast
when fathers took his children to play a game or two in the fields
of times when grandfathers and grandchildren sat by the hearth
while grandmothers cooked, and shared centuries-old stories of values and love
when man loved his woman the way she should be
when woman warmed her bed only with her man
when children held their old parents in their arms
when students bowed to their teachers in reverence
of the times when happiness wasn’t paid for
when wars were avoided
of times when human were humane
when animals were treated as a member of the family
life was different
I lived that life, in that world