Sunday, April 10
A letter to "Sons & Lovers"
Time flies, isn’t it?
Three years it has been since I first held you in my hands.
You were crimson red with a hint of dark on your edges all around. On the corner shelf of a dim lit room you were whispering to me, “Come. I shall be yours through misery & mystery. Hold. I shall take you through pain & pleasure. Know. I shall be your truth forever.”
I took you away.
I had dreamed of a journey together full of possibilities, but I could never be bold. My lips trembled when they took your name. My hands shivered when they felt your weight. I never dared touch you.
Perhaps, I was afraid of you; your popularity, your controversies. I never wanted others to know about our association. After all, I was a good guy.
I put up a mask, like a veneer that hides ugly furniture. I pretended and further pretended. Every day, I waged a battle inside. A strange fear kept holding me back from giving what was duly yours.
Oh, dear! I didn’t know you were so resilient. Three long years you waited silently to let me tell this world that I had had you!
Yes, I have got you and I’m not ashamed.
I want to know you. I want to understand you. Those 392 pages of you are mine and I shall definitely treasure you.
कभी सोचता हूँ समेट दूँ तुम्हारी दास्ताँ कागचों पे अपने शब्दों के सहारे पर बैठता हूँ जब लिखने तुम्हें तो रुक जाता हूँ अब तुम ही बताओ ...
अजीब सी लगती है अजीब सी लगती है सूरज की पहली लाली जैसे करती हो इंतज़ार मेरे आँखों के खुलने का और फिर बड़ी बेदर्दी से चौंधिया देने ...
अगर कभी अँधेरी रातों के सैलाब, सब्र के बांध परखने आ जायें ठहर जाना कुछ देर उनके भी साथ क्यूंकि हैं नावाकिफ वो इस बात से कि हर रोज ...
रात को अकेले होते थे कभी पल दो पल उसे सोच लेते थे। पर यारों अब क्या करें, अब तो हालत है ऐसी, रात - दिन उसी के सपने दिखते हैं॥