myspace

In front of thousands or more I surrendered I held her hand, brought her home She was called my wife. She too submitted to me and my family marriage was consummated I made love She lost her virginity. We were now man and wife I followed all rituals like all couples do. Now she even bears my child but lord oh lord there is another who bears my soul. Shubhra, 17th June 07

Men, whatever their status married or single whatever their age old or young want her Women, the married ones envy her space her freedom the younger ones idolize her success her independence Parents, worry and silently hope Bosses, prefer her to her married counterparts Friends, count on her for her availability They see success freedom independence space they see it all yet they don't see much most wanted and yet she feels so unwanted. Goes back at night to an empty house an empty bed sleeps cuddled with her teddy bear waking up alone to another day gets ready puts on her best dress and that dab of mascara with the mask on she is now ready to face life again to conquer a few more hearts to be wanted again Shubhra 17th March, 2007 edited on July 3, 2007

I am full to the brim, with an ocean of emotions inside. The heart is threatening to spill over. I wish I could find a reason that appears legitimate to the world. Shubhra, June 4, 2007

I wait for him like the farmer who waits for the monsoon rains. Monsoon can be predicted, But who can predict his arrival? Shubhra May 15, 2007

आज सुबह जब खुद को तन्हा पाया तो दिल मे एक टीस उठी याद आ गयी कल की बीती हुई सुबह जब मैं तुम्हारी बाहों मे थी दिल ने पुकारा काश की ये सपना ना टूटे ये साथ ना छूटे मन ने समझाया क्या था पास हुमारे खाली दिल कुछ यादे तन्हा दिन और राते तुम आए अचानक और सब कुछ नया हुआ जीवन को एक नया मोड़ दिया इस दिल को फिर से मछलाया रात और दिन को रगीन बनाया सुबह और शाम को महकाया कुछ नही था पास हमारे आज दामन है भरा हुआ जो तुम दे ना सके उसकी ख़लिश तो है पर जो तुमने दिया उसके शुक्रगुज़ार हैं हम क्या हुआ जो हम एक साथ ना हुए हम साथ साथ तो हैं. शुभ्रा April 23, 2007

Anything but deceit… I have forgotten you; Well almost. But, your memories, when they come, they sweep me unexpectedly like a storm. Events swirl in my mind with a flurry like the leaves that whirl with the force of the wind. Hurriedly I shut all the windows of my mind just as I would have done at home at the onset of a storm. The mind gets hazy and brown. The heart beats faster and face gets flushed red with rush of blood. Anger, hatred and disgust fill my thoughts. Just as rains succeed the summer dust storms, the storm within calms down as tears flow. Still, after all these years? Yes. How I wish I had lost you to anything but this. I ask myself questions. What if you’d gone off to some distant land, some road that was calling out your name, and a forbidden country from which no return was ever possible? Or if you had died, in a plane crash or in a road accident or just plain naturally? Then you’d be the man I thought you were and I, the woman that I want to be. I would have cried.

As I lie in bed, still half asleep I dream of you beside me I can feel your arms around me, your lips on my neck, your warm breath, caressing me gently. How I wish never to wake up, unless its you who wakes me. Shubhra 6th April, 2007

Why do you need a day to celebrate and recognize women? What about the remaining 364 days? Is a woman any less important on the remaining days? Is she not worth 365 days of celebration and recognition? Oh you foolish women... Stop being dependent on a day to celebrate yourself You are worth each moment of your existence and Oh you selfish men... Wakeup and look around. You would not exist if the woman didn't. Shubhra 8th March 2007

I wonder What happened? How did this happen? and why? Neither intended nor proposed Not in the scheme of things. Yet, I came this far I had plans set to reason. How then did this happen? Wonder I did and then it dawned. The mind makes plans, sets them to logic. But the heart? Well, it has a mind of its own. Shubhra 26th February, 2007

Recently a close aunt of mine passed away. I would say close because the families were very close till we were in Kanpur. Later as we moved away distance did affect everyone. My childhood had fond memories of visit to her house and playing in their vast lawns. I somehow always liked her presence. When one Sunday evening I heard of her death, I remembered her for a moment and then carried on with whatever else I was doing. It was then it struck me, death after all affects who? I questioned and answered and then argued within my head. Finally I did get my answer. Its always a loss only to the immediate family or friends. Now one would think what a profound answer that is. To my mind it is. For me it is. What is death, absence of the person in his/her physical form. Now the real loss or pain of that life long absence is felt only by those who are in the absolute daily contact of the person. A father, a son, a daughter, a mother, a grand mother, a grand father, a long associated servant, t

Medium: Oil on Canvas January 21, 2007

ज़िंदगी में कयी ऐसे सवाल होते हैं जिनके कोई जवाब नही होते और अगर होते भी हैं तो उनको कहने वाले जनाब नही होते वो जवाब कहीं रह जाते हैं खो जाते हैं कभी खामोशियों में कभी शोर में हो जाते हैं गुम कुछ सच्चाई से डर कर कुछ ज़माने से डर कर कुछ खुद सावल ही से डर कर बस हो जाते हैं गुम पर वो सवाल कहीँ नही जाते हैं वो घूमते रहते हैं यहाँ से वहाँ तक इस पन्ने से उस पन्ने तक इस ज़ुबान से उस ज़ुबान तक इस मन से उस मन तक इस कविता से उस कविता तक एक सदी से दूसरी सदी तक जिसके पास भी जाते हैं बस जवाब ढूँढते हैं परेशान करते हैं उलझनें पैदा करते हैं नये सवाल खड़े करते हैं पर उनको फिर भी मिलते नही जवाब वो जवाब ऐसे ही रहते हैं गुम रहते हैं खामोश करते हैं इंतज़ार उस एक जनाब का जिसके लफ़्ज़ों में इन सवालों के जवाबों को कभी मिले पनाह शुभ्रा, January 19, 2007

Medium: Oil paint on canvas. December 17, 2006

I long for your touch for that soothing kiss for the warm embrace where I lose myself to you for your look that assures all will be well today I just long for you

Last night it was very cold and slightly foggy. It must have been about 11.30 pm or so and I was on my way back from office. On the signal near my house, I saw a beggar. I always see him. A frail old guy, grey, almost white hair, wearing glasses that were thick and one could hardly see what his eyes were like. He was clad in a light green dhoti or what we in UP call angocha, and a kurta which had almost gone black with all the smoke from the vehicles. He had an aluminum bowl in his hand and he was begging. Shivering and shaking, going from one car to another. He was bare feet and upto his thighs his legs were all bare. All the cars waiting had their windows up, mostly must have had their heaters on and hardly bothered about him. Some didn't even notice him, their attention was focused on the signal, waiting for it to turn green. I was farther off in my car, windows down, enjoying the feel of the winter and watching this old beggar go from one car to another... Before he came to me