(The agony and angst of the poem can be understood better by the readers if they come to know that the poetess Vimala was once an active revolutionary spending the prime of her youth in forests, married to another revolutionary (but had very little family life with both of them attending different assignments) who was later killed in an encounter by police, came out when the direction of the movement did not suit her dreams, studied law, and is now an active practicing lawyer serving the cause of the poor and the destitute)
Several Fall and Spring breezes
Have walked over me.
I am aware of the strands of hair
Turning gray over my head,
Of the creases appearing on my skin,
And the senescence
Slowly and serenely seizing upon me.
A smile breaks on the lips
And a ceaseless spring wells up in the eyes
It continues to rain…
And the steps stagger
As the frills of the seeping sari stick to the feet…
Yet, somehow, one has to walk!
On a similar rainy night…
I still remember…
You breezed into my house
Through the door left ajar…
I still remember
You kissing the mole in my palm,
My fingers browsing through your curly hair,
And in your honey eyes
My stumbling upon an age-old dream of mine …
How frightened was I
That the dream might take to wings like a bird !!!
I still remember
Conversing with my dream
Sealing your eyes securely with my lips.
It was again such similar rainy night,
An endless night … you slept in my lap,
A night when you, the dream and the rain merged into…
Many such nights … an inexplicable fear and delight…
How many nights did pass looking at you like that!
What an agony it is
To wait for them
You know will never turn up.
Death is an eternal truth as birth is.
Like the involuntary reflexes of breathing in and breathing out,