Vihanga

Global Magazine

Walking with time

 

We go on walking

Sometimes we look back

What a lot of memories!

 Folding the pages thro’ out the book of life

They demand to stop on and off and peruse

At every perusal, eyes becomes springs of tears.

Yet we can’  t stop looking back.

Drawing out with hands from the depths of hearts

We quench the thirst of the memories

Sometimes not knowing which way to go

We become statues at the crossroads of life.

On the way we fondly pluck the flowers that greet us

While feasting our eyes

They prick the fingers sharply with a thorn

That goes deep to the heart; still unmoved

We hug

The affectionately approaching friend of fragrance

And still go on walking

We are little children clutching the little finger of time.

While walking

We fumble, but never stop walking.

Just as mother protects in the arms and helps to walk

And pushes out from the nest when the wings are acquired

Hands change, yet we do not stop.

Walking takes a different course

Cutting new impressions  

Weaving new attachments

Knitting flowers of experiences

Making colored designs all the way

Filling up all hearts with light, we go on.

Now and then some whirl wind rages.

Mixing up all colors, it hurls dust.

All dreams turn up to be bubbles.

Life in its reality lies flat on the road.

The heart that is aloft

Descends with wings broken.

Stopping our flight, we walk on

Being hurt by the stone hurdles of experiences

Feet become sore.

 

Heart gradually turns stone,

Those that started with us

Are no longer with us after a distance.

The faces of those walking around us

Go on changing like computer graphics,

We never fondle even if a little lamb peeps out of those faces

We are not frightened if the same face becomes a wolf and snarls

Does one having a stone heart fear any thing?

Does one, turning stubborn, step back?

Now and then our wounds will be aching

Yet we stick smiles all over the wounds

And light   karthic  lampes  in the tank of tears.

Still our walk with time continues

Though the past blinds our eyes

Though the present breaks the heart

And the future frightens being dark,.

Holding the lighted torch of hopes

Fearlessly we go on walking.

                                                                  -Seela Subhadra Devi

                                  Translated by Kodavanti Leela Mohan Rao

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