Taste of Tears

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To The One Who Continues to Live In Our Hearts

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My eyes were fixed on the roaring waves that late evening. I was standing on the land, where my most admired person ever belonged to. The sky was almost dark as the gloomy dark clouds almost enveloped the sky. The waves were high and their roar was easily heard.
The sight wasn’t pleasant, it was scary and chilling. My heart was already beating faster, for my life was hanging on a cliff with uncertainties.
I walked towards my mother to sit beside her, and I could make out from her face that something was wrong and that she was avoiding to tell me.
I kept quiet and did not ask her anything. We got into the car to drive back to the place. Throughout the journey I kept glancing at her, she wouldn’t notice me, which she otherwise does. 
We reached the guest house and switched on the TV. I was trying to look okay, since later that evening I had already gulped down a bad news.
The news flashed on the TV screen about death of APJ Abdul Kalam sir. I was numb and shocked. My mother then broke the silence by saying, “I got to know about the news when you were at the beach.”  On asking why she did not tell me about it then, she replied that she did not know how to give me another bad news.
Tears started to roll down, and my hands inked in black color of the smudged kohl. God rained grief all over me that day and I wonder if he is really kind to me.

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I was in Chennai and I wanted to go to Rameshwaram ( where Abdul Sir was born and raised in) but life is cruel sometimes, and I couldn’t go. 24 hours round trip was impossible then.

The reality hasn’t sunk in yet; however, his loss is replaceable. He was a benevolent human being who died doing what he wanted to- Delivering a lecture at one of the top engineering institutes in India.
There can never be another APJ Abdul KalamPeople’s President, Missile Man, the man with wings of fire, and the one who read and respected both Hinduism and Islam.

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I remember when he was just a distant away from where I was standing during a conference. I was blessed to have a glance of him, to hear his words of wisdom and to be a part of his audience. I still remember each story of his life that inspired countless people.
His words still echo inside my head.

“Where there is righteousness in the heart, there is beauty in the character.
Where there is beauty in the character, there is harmony in the home.
When there is harmony in the home, there is order in the Nation.
When there is order in the Nation, there is peace in the World.
-APJ Abdul Kalam”
Today, former President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam’s mortal remains would finally be put to rest. My Akhari Salaam to Kalam Sir.

All the love, respect and admiration that I have always carried for him shall stay for eternity.
I pray that his soul rest in peace.

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You will be terribly missed, Sir.

The Lonely Child

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The mountains are high and my feet are bloated;
Pinned hopes are taken off by the wind going wild,
Shaking my head as desolated poetries of life are unfolded;
The sky pours down in grief watching the lonely child.

Clothed in the weary skin, my soul naked in the twilight;
The darkness follows and the shadow leaves behind;
Oh! How the weight of the cruel world pulls down the kite,
That once flew high and bright like the lonely child.

Those with heart of a stone threw me away so far,
Where the petals have dried and the thorns are lined;
The night cries as the warm tear falls on my invisible scar,
And the moon wonders if God is the friend of the lonely child.

– Kritika Vashist

(I am trying to catch up with the blog, but it is now getting almost impossible. I am taking a short break, since I have a lot to sort out and a lot to do in coming days, and I hope that everything goes well. I will be back soon. Miss me a bit, okay?
Stay awesome.) 

Clavicle – Yet Again

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And then that one night
When he had her beside him
Under the the bewitching sky
The moonlight was overshadowed
By the radiance of her clavicle.

– Kritika Vashist

(I had written nano poetries on Clavicles earlier as well. If you like, you may read them here.)

I Stand Here

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The pillars have started to ache
The roots have almost dried up
All old leaves have fallen
The new ones do not come;
And I must tell you now
I stand here amid gloomy clouds
Like an old abandoned house.

I stand here longing for you
But you do not look through
The dusted windowpane
But you do not try to
Dust down the webs of sorrow.

I stand here with my eyes fixed
On the cracked and fragile door
Rain arrives, wind permeates;
The one I wait for do not come.

When the silence howls
In the blues of the night
I veil myself in the moonlight;
And I must tell you now
That if the shadows of despair
Grew larger to eclipse the moon
Each wall would break down
Leaving behind the darkest ruins
All that would echo your name
To kindle the fire of love and pain.

– Kritika Vashist