Category: Written in 2008

To a Knight

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Dimples on an Officer –
Incongruous on someone trained to kill.
But the combination got me going;
And though it was against my will,
I got to know them better.
Both the dimples were two sides of a scale;
And as my prejudice’s wont,
I’ve gathered that to be the end of this tale!
I even cried a bit.
For two reasons (that I shall mention here):
One: he disdained to accept our friendship
In public because of his own societal fear;
Two: he reached out to a part of me I thought had died
And which was once something very dear.

I usually write in verse,
When I feel greatly;
And as you can see,
It’s the tears I seem to cherish and nurse.
There is no explanation why
Someone touches someone’s history;
In most cases, with repression,
It all seems to end up a mystery.
Not with me.
I know the romantic in me, who I strangled,
Came back to haunt me last night;
And, as I looked on, he successfully wrangled
Old wasted emotions and new pent-up fears:
Abandoned chances of being carried off by some knight;
Appalling certainties of old age and lonely tears.

28th February
5:45pm

To A—-

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia2 Comments

To A—-

I shall think of smiles Today from the Past,
When we first met eight Septembers ago;
Those smiles which somehow managed to last,
Despite, both, Life and Time’s opposite flow.
The first rose I gave you is still bright red
In my mind’s eye, as are the ones you gave;
But Today’s incomplete if this isn’t said:
We are lovers, who Fate fails to enslave,
We passed the tests of grief Life had to give
And did well in what Time dared us to do.
Despite tears, we made those early smiles live
And, successfully, made some that’re brand new.
Our love, like our smiles, isn’t filled with the Past;
Its evolution is what makes Us last.

14th Feb
2:45am

Myself.

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia5 Comments

The swing I sat on, when I was five,
Gave me the greatest pleasure.
I knew happiness as I swung,
Thinking life was leisure.
The wind rushing against my face
Promised that it would last.
Now, I smile, ruefully,
When I remember that swing from my past.

Life is cruel, just as it is kind,
(To be kind it needs to be cruel);
Love, happiness, honour and beauty
Are trapped in its unceasing duel.
I used to love with gay abandon;
Now caution dictates my every move,
In matters of life,
In matters of love.

I still wear my heart on my sleeve,
Though I try harder to shield it,
I have sharpened my brain with experience,
And I have learnt to wield it.
Years have passed and are passing still,
I have lost those I loved and some have lost me,
I have been touched and have been bruised,
Each caress and weal is stored in memory.

You see a part of me now,
Perhaps I shall let you see the other sides of me:
Perhaps you’ll see the boy, with the wind on that swing,
Perhaps the present or some future destiny.
Through all of your judgement know this,
Disregarding every shred of vanity:
You never did, never will or hope to know,
Any other quite like me.