Old yellow houses and their broken window pane
in a sync on both sides of a pale narrow lane
Red flower pots with petunia and begonia spiraling down
a smell of fresh coffee and burning tinge of cinnamon
The lady in black rushing as if to catch a train
breaking the silence in my head those little drops of rain
A girl in brown boots and a guy with shiny brown cane
her fingers fidgeting with his iffy hands on that old bench
As if words are being exchanged in morse code
aloof from the rain, the mud and the ugly toad
As if the storm of thoughts are rushing through them
his eyes staring into hers decoding the silence of mayhem
Oblivious to bespattered with mud thrown by that rusty car
Her fist now resting calmly in his still iffy palms saying au revoir.
Franz Kafka, the story goes, encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.
Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot. Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.
“Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures.” This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.
When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained: “my travels have changed me… “
Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll. In summary it said: “every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.”
Kafka and the Doll: The Pervasiveness of Loss The healing Story
In august last year, I have tried my hands on one of the exquisite form of art, Charcoal painting. As messy it is to put your thoughts through the black char, it comes out equally beautiful once you are able to handle it. The first painting is of a girl. As they say- Truly the life is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the hope for a sweeter one.
I sketched the second one, Radhe-Krishna on Janmashtami, birthday of Lord Krishna as an ode to the ethernal love.
A short love story of Silvia and Matthew, hailing from completely different social background and brought together by their affection for music. Two lovers vowed to spend their life together only to fall apart in pieces.
This is the second book I have read that is written by Erich Segal. Love Story was brilliant in its portrayal of evident and non-evident emotions. Only Love, throughout its length was also impeccable, the everlasting bond between Matthew and Evie and the magnetism between Matthew and Silvia. A heartbreaking story of a love lost and a love found. But when it comes to end, how he (Matthew) can say that I have always loved you, Evie. We, as human, always keep parts of them whom we loved once. One can be free and moved on. And in order to do so, we forgive them and ourselves, keep the good memories with ourselves and not put blame on the other one. Whatever the reason Silvia had for her disappearance from his life whether it was sense of responsibility or fear for survival, it cannot change the fact what she and Matthew had once was beautiful and it was Love.
A book that makes you sad in a good way. A cute and dark-humored tale of love of two terminally ill teens, struggle of an only child to leave less and leeser scars on the lives of her parents, courageous efforts of a kid to die gracefully by giving everyday its best. A story that reminds you how precious moments can be if lived to the fullest, no matter how short they are.
From the very beginning, story flows with its own sweet and inevitably sad pace. And the best part you’ll become a part of that. You will feel the wish of Hazel, Gus and Issac for some missing part of their lives. Above that you will pain of their parents of seeing their children getting deprived of living as normal, guilt of imagining their live without them. To its loveliest part you’ll see Gus and Hazel making best of their days whichever they were left with.
Wo sunsan raastey
Jinpe chalte chalte kabhi mile the hum
Jinpe chalte chalte mehsoos kiya tha humne
Chhoti chhoti khushiyan jo thi unn raaston se judi!
Aaj lag rha hai kafi peeche reh gyi hain wo
Kuch sunahri kuch syah yaadon k sath!
Kabhi na chaha tha kisi ne ye
Par lagta h yhi thi khuda ki marji!
Humein tha khud pe bharosha
Aur aap-pe aur apne khuda pe
Aur sabse jyada hamari dosti pe!
Par lagta h sare sapnon bas ek hi anjaam liye aate hain
Wo toot-te hain, toot k bikhar jate hain!
Bas reh jate hain hum, hmari yaadein
Aur ek bujhi si umeed unn sapnon k jud jaane ka!
Jindagi rukti nai kisi bhi sapne k liye
Kabhi chalti h ye sapne dekhne k liye
Aur kabhi toote sapnon k jud jaane ki ummed liye!!