“wakt ne kiyaa kyaa haseen sitam
tum rahe naa tum hum rahe naa hum”
[What poetic injustice time has commited
You are not yourself anymore, I am not myself anymore]
It is there. Wherever you are, whatever you are. Throbbing. Reminding you of something inexplicably, annoyingly important. Showing you the soreness and nakedness of invisible wounds. Demanding a pound of flesh. It is relentless, ostensibly insatiable.
“bekaraar dil is tarah mile
jis tarah kabhee, hum judaa na the
tum bhee kho gaye, hum bhee kho gaye
ek raah par chal ke do kadam”
[Restless hearts met in such a way
As if we never were separated
You are lost too, I am lost as well
On walking a few steps on a common path]
It reminds you sometimes, of the rivers that you have stepped in. It also reminds you, that you cannot step in those rivers again. Tells you where you come from. Demands to know where you are headed. It can be quietened, however, satiated. But its exacting demands are ever morphing. Surprising you, and yet, in ways you could have anticipated. But didn’t.
“jaayenge kahaa, suzataa nahee
chal pade magar raasataa nahee
kyaa talaash hai, kuchh pataa nahee
bun rahe hain din khwaab dam-ba-dam”
[Where we are going, I can’t comprehend
We have embarked, but there isn’t a pathway
Questing for what, is not known
Gradually the days fade into dreams]
It subsides, and when it does you know why. It raises its hydra head again. And you know why again. The nature of the beast lends itself to cultivation. It follows rules, and laws. Some that you know, and some that you don’t. It starts out like an excoriating grain of sand in the soft flesh of an oyster. It has the potential to transmute into an exquisite pearl, presumably through unwilling, undesigned, yet meticulous craftsmanship and application.
It ebbs out, but it will always rise one more time. The splinter in the mind.