Her Fond Memories Frozen Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

I recall still those two large probing eyes
Upon somewhat lean-looking oval face
That should have stolen looks at me the least,
Considering this solemn study place—
This temple of reading stacked up with tomes,
Her eyes perhaps pretended whilst to read,
Unlike a sea of other engrossed heads,
I was (as we oft are)led by her lead.

May be a thing about me was askance,
I first thought, for, she must have seen a few
More moons than me, and did look so at once—
As girls more than boys do, goes grandma view;
Was she engrossed in deep thoughts, looking blanks?
May be or not, but sure she drew me in,
I know of youths that but with eyes play planks,
And wordless speak these eager hearts so keen.

And if her blank look happened to catch me,
I may still take it as a random chance,
It might perhaps my heart's weakness well be,
Or destiny's well-choreographed a dance,
May be I was upon that lonely shore
Just when that pearl-laden boat landed there,
Strayed to my shore—an act of aimless oar,
No one would know, nor would I ever care.

But she came to my shore at a wrong time
Amidst flurry of chores the year when ends,
And hurried glances were all we could steal,
Destiny's hand revealed we just were friends,
Our friendship never got to sink enough,
God alone knows, moments melted alive,
My defeated spirit fair witness was,
The hour of reckoning did when arrive.

Perhaps a false hope was still hanging on,
Tenuous threads weaken being slender,
And I began to think of a right way
And wrong, as I delved on it to ponder.
I wondered if it was heart's fluttering,
Or of mind that caused almost a ship-wrack
Upon our life's very first hopeful shore,
And hoped happy moments might still come back.

And flashes of that fond love often fire
A silver-tongued morning's eloquent dream,
Radiant flames of heart-felt young desire
Leap to burn bright and yet turn ashes grim,
Triggering my piled up pride to perish,
Shored up swollen honours dash to dwindle,
A thread of hope still flows, off-flow as fish,
That, a dawn's dream may my heart rekindle.

And it was not at all a casual look,
As proved her pair of deeply probing eyes,
Nor was the look all blank, nor yet random,
Nor yet a girlie plank, nor was surprise,
Said she, notso happens without a cause
Nothing walks in like guest at an odd hour,
Today it is still deeply buried past,
Some things are lost in life yon recover.

Some moments often fleet by in a click,
Leaving the heart to brood, for them to long
In a world of ‘what if' ere wisdom dawns;
Memories of youth ring like a vague song,
And ere long all things weaken from their prime,
Take a magnetic tape, take disc, record,
And memories are writ on sands of time,
But never those that touch soul's deepest cord.

And our lives aught unfold as Destiny
Dances in a well-choreographed dance;
The director above, unseen decides,
And we actors know nothing in advance.
We dwell on what we lived for all our life,
We all in life have an eternal muse,
If we care to listen her voice is rife,
A poet's not alone that owes her dues.

I count my blessings for fond memories
Of her, for having gained at all her heart,
She too might be brooding, she loved and lost,
And here are we pulled by our fate apart;
It were not us perhaps stealing glances,
But our fate conspiring to pull away,
Leaving behind a few moments in freeze,
O to hope hereafter to have more say.
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Musings | 02.08.11 |