akka seekiram vandhu kadhaiya cont. pannunga. illennna ellarum ganesha maadhiri nakkala post pannuvaanga :cry: :evil:Quote:
Originally Posted by mgb
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akka seekiram vandhu kadhaiya cont. pannunga. illennna ellarum ganesha maadhiri nakkala post pannuvaanga :cry: :evil:Quote:
Originally Posted by mgb
SP, indha projectOda status enna ?
Hi SP :D
well well yet another talent to add to the array you have displayed already :) I'm enjoying reading your story...as in i continue enjoying it because i appreciate it anew when i go back and reread the poetic lines interspresed :clap:
sp akka.. intha kadha enna acchu... appadiye vittuteengale... :?: :?: :?: :?:
un rasigargala ippadi thavikka vidalama.. :cry: :cry:
pls continue..
:D
:shock:
I am so very dearly pleased, that ppl remember this story and WANT IT TO BE CONTINUED after ages :oops:
lemme go thro the story and try to recollect what I had written before.
I shall TRY TO continue :oops:
RECAP....
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shakthiprabha
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shakthiprabha
[/quote]Quote:
PART - 3
Quietened streets, with tinkling of vessels being washed at some houses was propagating the stillness of night. Life itself is slowly withdrawing into a cozy cocoon .
Mind and its play too is almost akin. Desires, needs, ego want all dance boisterously only to tranquilize when the show is over.
Ringing the bell with shrieking noise, at odd hours was not a good idea. So he always carries a bunch of keys with him, to help himself into the house the days he is late.
Sumi must be fast asleep he thought to himself. Does she ever suprise him? Yes. She does. Very often.
"Atlast .... u are so late and never picked the cellular too. I was so worried"
"Was busy with some official meetings sumi"
"I was told u left the company too early today"
He stared at her. Long questioning stare which met with innocent unmalicious look of hers.
"Ah, some meeting with concerned person"
"okei. ur food is ready. Should I serve you"
"Thats okei. uve stood up late for me. Go sleep. I shall help myself"
It was 2 am. He kept shifting channels watching all yet watching none.
"YOU ARE STILL AWAKE? Something must be wrong with u!
IF Can help u, please share ur problems. I am all ears"
"no sumi darling, go sleep. I am alright"
"I forgot to tell you, our son, with his family is coming over for 10 days next week. They just called 2 dasys back"
He smiled.
"Good for you. Nice company to kill ur boredom."
"I am not bored at all. I keep myself so busy organising this big house of ours. Yes ofcouse having kishore and prarthana is a bliss, let alone the 2 yeaar old naughty varun"
"Oh yes, I found some diary lying on ur office table, just left it in second draw. I mean in case u are gonna search for it, u know.."
"oh... what diary?"
"how do i know. I just left it there. Good night. I am really sleepy. "
In case... he is gonna search for the diary.... he did. did he not? Not the diary, but reema. Reema which he knew so much, yet did not know at all.
This diary would be the educator, to know her... which ofcourse is of no use.
"Dear Raghav..
This is yours..
When I am nomore"
He stroked the diary.... her words.. her writing... it was like stroking her broad back and soothing her from tears.
She would burst out her problems to him, all those times he had just stood there to listen... and comfort with words except two to three times, when he hugged her to soothe her uncontrollable sobs.
He slowly turned the first page. It had started with the time she had moved into south india. Initial scribblings of hindi slowly over took to hindi mixed with english and soon enough
it was a diary filled with good clear comprehensible english.
"aaj humlog madhraas aaya aur MUJHE MADHRAS BILKUL PASAND NAHI"
(TRAnslated : 'I had moved to Madhras today and I HATE MADHRAS' )
Raghav's face slowly lit up with smile.
The time, the place and people and his first encounter with reema. That was a differnt world.
(to be continued)
Quote:
Originally Posted by Shakthiprabha
PART 5
_______
These days one can find raghav too often in mukunt's house.
Even when mukunt himself is absent.
"hello aunty today my typing class got over soon enough, isn't
mukunt there?"
"he had some official work and left early enough raghav, plz sit. Ive made hot pongal and corrainder chutney"
Pankajam aunty's culinary talent can never be undermined. Mukunt's idli smeared with chilli powder used to be consumed by all others leaving just a morsel for mukunt to taste from his lunch box.
"oh I love pongal aunty, especially if its made by you"
Pankajam aunty blushed sweetly and said "Please spare from
all these praises, I just do my duty"
As he was juat about to leave, he started looking for the little
naughty cousin of mukunt. "Where is vinutha?"
"Oh she is playing with her dolls"
Just then broad bright day light became brighter when the moon
collided into mukunt's house.
"aunty mukunt bhaiya hai?" (is mukunt brother there)
"no... reema, he left early, he asked me to hand over this book to u"
(oh... so its reema!)
Now he made it quietly to vinutha, and spoke loud enough to startle the kid
"hi lil one, wont u want me to play along with u?"
'NO Anna go away"
"shhh should not talk back to elders"
"...."
"are u shy cutie pie"
"NO!"
"then wont u come to me"
"hmph, then why did u not get me choclate which u promised"
"oh are u angry with me... sweet lil one"
"yaaa"
"I shall get u whatever u want, now please look at me and smile."
All along he was very much aware of the pair of eyes, watching him
with amused smile.
Moon glanced sideways and actually smiled. Instantly all his fascination
turned into a very cozy comforable feeling. Raghav smiled back.
"hi.. I am reema, haven't I seen u before, u look so familar"
"Oh yes.. I was just thinking the same" (He had no time to contemplate whether or not she placed his lie)
"May be.. do u come to 'geet-vihar' sammelan, pankaj udha's ghazal shows"
(OH NO! What do I do now?!)
"Ghazals .. oh yes ghazals.. I love listening to them, but no I dont
make it to geet vihar. I do drop my friend shaheed once or twice"
"Thats fine, did he attend the last sammelan"
"You mean shaheed? No he left to usa recently" (I cant manage this anymore!!!)
"Thats a pity, but u can still make it, its nice to watch live shows"
"I shall! definitely! Next time!.. Do let me know in advance"
"ok bye! Lovely meeting u....."
She exhibited her evenly studded pearls. So bright that it shone
with a sheen. Her smile, her hair, blackish auburn may be,
and aura around.
"Raghav.. Raghav Vishwanathan"
"Reema shah" Curt smile. Crisp, sharp, may be little rude, innocently rude. The moon bid goodbye and set.
Not long after that, his home phone tingled a sweet voice.
"Raghav?"
"yeah"
"you remember me? this is reema!?"
"sorry, which reema"
"reema shah"
"oh moon!?"
"Kya!?" (what)
He bit his tongue and blurted, 'nothing was just talkin to my lil cousin.'
'Raghav, I got ur number from mukunt, Are u interested in buying
tickets for delhi cultural assocition's Variety entertainment?'
"oh why not!"
After the conversation was done, raghav was seen in a book shop
paying for a book title of which read "Learn hindi in 30 days"
(to be continued)
for once now, i feel the number 5 is very far from number 6...
please continue the part 6 i mean to say... :)
idhu kavidhai.. !!Quote:
Originally Posted by Shakthiprabha
Ss,
:)
Tht is a poetry! (angerunthu suttennu solla virumbala) It is words one of those poetries which got etched in my mind.
Poetry is about a lady who gets her dead husband's name carved on THE STONE. Just when its done, SHE IS NOMORE (as though waiting for this task to get completed)
I here by paste MY MOST FAVOURITE poetry, which is stiched in my mind for its piercing emotional touch.
________
"The Stone"
"And you will cut a stone for him,
To set above his head?
And will you cut a stone for him—
A stone for him?" she said.
Three days before, a splintered rock
Had struck her lover dead—
Had struck him in the quarry dead,
Where, careless of the warning call,
He loitered, while the shot was fired—
A lively stripling, brave and tall,
And sure of all his heart desired. . .
A flash, a shock,
A rumbling fall. . .
And broken ‘neath the broken rock,
A lifeless heap, with face of clay;
And still as any stone he lay,
With eyes that saw the end of all.
I went to break the news to her;
And I could hear my own heart beat
With dread of what my lips might say
But, some poor fool had sped before;
And flinging wide her father’s door,
Had blurted out the news to her.
Had struck her lover dead for her,
Had struck the girl’s heart dead in her,
Had struck life lifeless at a word,
And dropped it at her feet:
Then hurried on his witless way,
Scarce knowing she had heard.
And when I came, she stood alone,
A woman turned to stone:
And, though no word at all she said,
I knew that all was known.
Because her heart was dead,
She did not sight nor moan,
His mother wept;
She could not weep.
Her lover slept:
She could not sleep.
Three days, three nights,
Were one to her,
Who never closed her eyes
From sunset to sunrise,
From dawn to evenfall:
[b]Her tearless, staring eyes,
That seeing naught, saw all.[/b]
The fourth night when I came from work,
I found her at my door.
"And will you cut a stone for him?"
She said: and spoke no more:
But followed me, as I went in,
And sank upon a chair;
And curdled the warm blood in me,
Those eyes that cut me to the bone,
And pierced my marrow like cold steel.
And so I rose, and sought a stone;
And cut it smooth and square;
And, as I worked, she sat and watched,
Beside me, in her chair.
Night after night, by candlelight,
I cut her lover’s name:
Night after night, so still and white,
And like a ghost she came;
And sat beside me in her chair;
And watched with eyes aflame.
She eyed each stroke;
And hardly stirred;
She never spoke
A single word:
And not a sound or murmur broke
The quiet, save the mallet-stroke.
With still eyes ever on my hands,
With eyes that seemed to burn my hands,
My wincing, overwearied hands,
She watched, with bloodless lips apart,
And silent, indrawn breath:
And every stroke my chisel cut,
Death cut still deeper in her heart:
The two of us were chiseling
Together, I and death.
And when at length the job was done,
And I had laid the mallet by,
As if, at last, her peace were won,
She breathed his name; and, with a sigh,
Passed slowly through the open door:
And never crossed by threshold more.
Next night I labored late, alone.
To cut her name upon the stone.
© Wilfred Wilson Gibson, (1878 - 1962).
(and those words... "seeing naught... saw all..."
affects me so much, that it brings tears to my eyes, everytime I read it or even think of it)