If You Were Here

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Artwork by Keller & Witwer

If you were here,
You could have seen
How much of you
My eyes have hidden
And how much
They yearn to see your face
And how heavy
my eyelids have been
Since the night we were awake. 

If you were here,
You could have seen
How much my lips
Have dried holding the words
I want to speak into you
And how much
Of you
Echoes in my voice
And how thirstily
I call your name, craving for you.

If you were here,
You could have seen
How impatiently I stand
With my arms wide open
Wanting to feel your touch
And how madly
I tap my feet
Wanting to dance with you.

If you were here,
You could have seen
How drunk
I’m on all these poems
All the songs you sing
And how much
My silly heart races
Thinking about you,
Like you are the only one I know.

If you were here,
You could have seen
The look on my face
When I imagine me with you
And how intensely
I embrace the scent
Of your breaths in my own
And how foolishly
The air around me blows.

If you were here,
You could have seen
How much
I want to be with you
And how much
I want to love you.

-Kritika Vashist

The Melancholic Song

Painting by Januz Miralles
Painting by Januz Miralles

I struggled throughout the nights,
Pulled out all the stops during the days,
Fatigued eyes did not stop painting.
The echoes did not cease for a moment,
In the deafness of bleeding ears .
The head exploded with each verse.
The heart paused for longer than usual
and heavier than heretofore, after your name.
I crawled inside the creased sheets,
With the song still playing inside me.
The silhouette darkened more in chorus,
The beaming sun, all clouds wailed in chorus.
When later the moon howled
In silence and in pervasive pain,
The words of the song echoed louder
Inside the empty bones,
While the beats slip into the skin,
In spite of many denials.

Looking at the blank canvas of our love
In a room reflecting the faded memories
I wondered in desolation,
How you continue to be the song?

I broke down more and more,
Convincing myself that
I have finally jumped off the cliff, and
I don’t wish to love you anymore.

-Kritika Vashist

Musical Narration of the Ramayana

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The Ramayana is a Sanskrit epic poem ascribed to the Hindu sage and Sanskrit poet Valmiki. It is regarded as one of the two great works of Indian literature, along with the Mahabharata.The Ramayana also plays an important role in Hindu literature.
Indians must be knowing about the value attached to the Ramayana both in literature and in religion. To my Non-Indian friends, you may know more about the Ramayana by clicking here.

The Ramayana may appear to some as a story, but it always have been more than a story of a man (Rama) whose wife (Sita) has been abducted by the king of Lanka (now known as Sri Lanka). The Ramayan not only teaches about the power of truth, but also about duties, responsibilities, sacrifice, faith, and love.

There have been quite a number of TV serials and movies made on the story of the Ramayana. Ever year near Dussehra (Vijayadashami), plays are organized narrating the story of the courage and victory of truth.

The gist of briefing you about the Ramayana is that few days back I came across a song ‘Ramayan’ by a band named “Silemukh”; Silemukh is the name of an arrow.
Plays, movies and serials are common medium to know about the Ramayana; however, this song has an excellent narration and amazing music. After listening to this song, I thought of sharing it with you.

Click on Facebook to follow them
Click on Youtube  to listen to more songs by them.
Click here for their website.

I hope you enjoyed the song. 🙂

– Kritika Vashist

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

Glass of Wine

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Between my dreams and reality,
that sends shivers down my spine
my fears and hopes swim
like untold stories in a glass of wine.

All my implicit thoughts,
the desire to make you mine
all lie smoothly on the impression
of my lips on a glass of wine.

A sip of hopefulness,
a sip of helplessness,
tells my thoughts to recline,
alters the color of my eyes
while I talk to an affable glass of wine.

There is no song to play
no words on the blue line,
yet the heart weeps
as I drink another glass of wine.

– Kritika Vashist

(October, 2014)

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