I trudge back whimpering
To my home, taking a break
From that numbing quest
He could wait. Families can't.
Exhilarated, my Maa pulls
Me into a hug and plants a huge
Kiss on my cheek, eyes flooding
With tears, my sister yanks my plait,
Rolls her eyes and chatters animatedly.
My father grins and teases, my grandma
Complains about how thin I 've grown,
And how much taller I have become.
"Oh Narayana! What is it?"
My friend enquires as I ,
Hastily try to cover the deep
Gash on my forearm.
"Hari Govinda save you child!"
My mom cries, "Who
Gets hurt on a world tour?"
Well that was the excuse
I had given them- 'world tour' indeed!
"And remember mother?"
My sister pipes in " She used to
Complain that her Kanha doll
never ate butter, look at her now
She's become thinner than a stick"
I shrug and roll my eyes in turn.
But my grandma takes hold of me
And cries tremulously "Oh Hare Rama!"
"Only Sri Hari knows how much
I missed you dear." Unshed tears
Gleam in her eyes waiting to spill.
I try to answer their questions,
And tell them about myself too.
But tears choke me and my voice;
Falters. Thinking about my quest-
For Him.
But I needed this time,
Every once in a while...
For my family
And I needed this time.
To gather the broken pieces...
Of my heart and soul.
And I needed this time,
To conquer myself....
To be a better human...
But what chokes me,
Most of all, is how easily,
They all say His name.
My mother, grand mother,
Sister, friend, father....
It comes so easily to their lips.
His names...
But everytime I try to mouth-
Those two syllables....
Rama ...
Krishna ...
Kanha...
Hari...
Only I know the pain,
The exhilaration,
The euphoria,
The joy,
The sadness,
The love,
All these squeezed within-
The reaches of two mere syllables...
And so I'll never have the courage,
To say His name aloud.
It scares me. The sheer power.
And the emotions it unleashes.
And whenever I try,
Only tears remain.
Oceans of tears.
And a heavy lightheadedness.
Along with a racing heart.
My limbs shaking, my knees wobbling.
And an excruciating yearning-
Filled with adulterated, undiluted, love...
For Him...
A heavy price to pay,
Just for uttering two syllables.
Is this a punishment, Murari?
To not ever voice your name?
Isn't the price a little to costly?
Wealth inner was never my expertise.
And so I'll never be able to afford
Those two syllables that assert,
My unchaining and freedom...
What sort of love denies
The lover the name of The Loved?
I 'll think about it later.
But for now I'll enjoy
My reunion with my family.
YOU ARE READING
Searching- A saga ✔
PoetryMany things that I've realized about this life... Many things that I've realized about myself... Many more about the society I live in... Much more about the world in general... But... Mainly about my world in particular... My world... FOR ONCE, NO...