I have slipped into a nap on the turnpike, Faakir,
Send away the crowds, that I live still.
I guess it is a pale shadow of the original. I have always had this problem with translations. But sometimes, no other words convey the mood, or if they are there, I fail to grab them in the right sequence.
As some of you know, I’ve been bobbing in and out of a rabbit hole, a parallel universe of late. This other world is none other than my own muse I’ve been striving to sculpt with syllables and syntax. My lot varies from day to day, and night to night. At times I grope in an endless mine; at times I squint in scintillating light. There are moments it gets dark, very dark, in the world out here. And then the sun rises with the promise of a workday to be slogged away at a grumpy desk at my office that keeps me fed. All I’ve been trying though in this big, tangled world, is to be a wisp of ripple in the river of dew. Or a blade of grass, stirring in a lisp of breeze.
It has been quite around this corner of the web for the past two months, like a puny wharf, a mute witness to ships passing by to dreamy destinations. Like hopeful passengers, many provocations, many joys and many pains have lingered on to board boats of expressions. But, as to a fasting naga, I have refused to lend them a crumb or a morsel, leave alone a vessel.
If you are reading this, I am grateful to you for that confidence in my pen, which alone has earned me a sliver of Platinum from Indian Top Blogs. Do read about it here, with the knowledge that it is but a reflection of love of my readers. Many thanks to you all!