I cannot remember my mother, only sometime in the midst of my play a tune seems to hover over my playthings, the tune of some song that she used to hum while rocking my cradle.
I cannot remember my mother but when in the early autumn morning the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air, the scent of the morning service in the temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.
I cannot remember my mother only when from bedroom window I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky, I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face has spread all over the sky.
~Rabindranath Tagore Note : This was one of the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.
There is smoke somewhere. I cannot seem to figure out where. The lights are here, the music is here. Has it been home here ? Perhaps. Maybe when it did not rain. Or maybe when it rained and it did not matter. Maybe when I walked alone, smiling to myself. Or maybe when I realized I was okay. Had it been always like this ?
Not really. Things clicked, took effort and blood. Did I do it ? Or the beasts did ? Maybe we both together, Played this game. Amidst soulful solitude, it was love. Maybe appreciation. Another journey, another dry spell. Will it ever be home again ?
P.S. : Penned at Candies, Bandra on 11th January 2017