Tonight I am too Tired

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Tonight my moon hides behind the gloomy clouds
Tonight the stars do not reflect the twinkle in my eyes
Tonight I am too tired to heart myself out, just like them.

Tonight I am too tired to paint you with my ink
To rain your memories through my teary eyes
To savor your scent etched into your letters.

Tonight my mind is too slothful to be lost in thoughts
Tonight my veins are too murky to carry my thin blood
Tonight my skin is too weary to breathe in melancholy.

Tonight my pen is too tired to sing me lullabies
Tonight the silence is too tired to envelope me
Tonight I am too tired to put myself to sleep.

– Kritika Vashist

DAY 1

This is in response to Prateek’s Five Photos, Five Stories Challenge. Thank you Prateek for giving me this wonderful opportunity.

The challenge is – “Post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph and each day nominate another blogger for the challenge”

My Nomination for Day 1 is HBhatnagar  who takes all challenges with much enthusiasm. All the best, Himanshu.

संगीत (With Translation)

Photo of Bangles at Dilli Haat, Delhi, India.
Photo of Bangles at Dilli Haat, Delhi, India.

“संगीत”

आसमान में इस आधे-अधूरे चाँद के साथ
दिल के दर-ओ-दीवार में दर्द उतर आया हैं।

ज़िन्दगी की इस दरहम – बरहम महफ़िल में
गर्दिश-ए-आफत में
बेवफ़ाई-हा-ए-याराँ में
मेरा चैन कहीं खो गया हैं।

इन रंजिशों के शोर में
तेरी गुलाबी चूड़ियों  का
रात की तेरी लोरियों का
संगीत कही खो गया हैं।

आज रात फिर तेरी यादों का भवर, माँ
मेरे इन आँसुओ में उतर आया है।


” The Song”

With the coming of half-made moon in the sky
Pain has invaded each wall and corner of my heart.

In the helter-skelter gathering of life
In the movements of adversities and calamities
In the inconstancies of beloved
my peace has been lost somewhere.

In the noises of sorrows and grief
the song of your tinkling rosy bangles 
the song of your night time lullabies
has been lost somewhere.

Again tonight, an eddy of your memories, mother
whirls through my tears.

(Thank you, Himanshu for helping me with English translation.)


“Sangeet”

Aasman mei iss aadhe-adhure chand ke sath
Dil ke dar-o-deewar mei dard utar aaya hai

Zindagi ke is darham-barham mehfil mei
Gardish-e-aafat mei
Bewafai-haa-e-yaaraan mei
mera chan kahi khoo gaya hai

Inn ranjishon ke shor mei
teri gulabi choodiyon ka
raat ke teri looriyon ka
sangeet kahi khoo gaya ha

Aaj raat fir teri yaadon ka bhawar, maa
meri inn aansuon mei utar aaya hai


(Note: The Picture was clicked at Dilli Haat, INA, India, which is the most exquisite place to buy beautiful Indian handicrafts.)

– Kritika Vashist

Don’t Wake Me Up

A sketch by me.
Don’t Wake Me Up- A pencil sketch by me.

The stars outside are still dancing
at the tune of the drunken moon
peeping through the window at
my drained body weary of the
malevolence flashing in the
eyes of the so called innocents;

The tick-tick of the broken clock
contrastingly lying peacefully on
the side of my sympathetic bed is
still convulsing my brain freighted
with unspoken unheard thoughts
wanting the silence to fade them;

The demon in his phantom glow
hasn’t yet howled its wonted
lullabies of the slithering night
inviting him to invade my mind
and to cover my consciousness
with his brooding profundity;

The softness of my merciful pillow
hasn’t yet soaked all the tears of
the love lost amidst the doubts
and the memories from the past
appearing as dark as the night sky
secretly spacing them in its infinity;

Living within my own complexities
my unfulfilled incomplete dreams
blurry or vivid in the darkness
perfect or imperfect in meaning
that I save for these silent nights
haven’t yet whispered their song;

Above all,
Reflective of the pensiveness
the words falling down from
the vaulted heights of my mind
into the warmth of the quilt
haven’t yet marked down the
last verse of my unheralded
nameless poem of tonight;
so keep out, shut the door
and don’t wake me up
for the night is still in its
leisurely contemplation.

-Kritika Vashist