Daughter's Diary

She sat brooding over her diary. Had she been a dutiful daughter? She kept wondering. She wished for a time-machine that could take her back to the good old days of happiness and togetherness. ...the times when she was still her dad's little girl, laughing at his jokes, finding comfort in his sturdy hands. 

It was all gone. The life ahead was solitary. She had to wipe her own tears. She had to stand for herself. 

Everyone thought she was happy. She would often smile. She had learnt that a smile was the best tactic to avert questioning glances. She had observed that her smile could hide the guilt she felt at having left her mother alone. So she would often smile.

Sometimes, she wondered why she felt so guilty. Sitting on her imperial blue sofa, she would frown and look down at her diary. That diary was her confidante. It was another matter that it was wordless. Every time, she tried to write, her eyes would well-up and tears would roll down her cheeks on to the blank pages. As a result, the pages had become stiff - very much like her own life. The moistness, the vitality was lost somewhere.

She had no right to be far from her mother when she needed her the most. She had no right to live a life of her own when her mother was weighed down by sorrow and loneliness. No, she had not been a dutiful daughter. She felt bad. She felt guilty. She had failed. Would she fail in other duties as well? Would she fail as a wife and as a mother? Perhaps, she had failed there too.

 Anxiety gripped her. She hoped for a time-machine that could take her and her mother to some cozy place where the two could smile. But then guilt possessed her again. Would it not be unfair to the people they would leave behind? She looked down at her diary. She picked up her pen. She wanted to write that she was dutiful. She wanted to write that she loved, she cared, she felt pain, she too cried. But instead of writing, eyes welled up again and tears rolled down. 

She called it a day.......

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

कोई जिसको हरा ना पाये वह खुद अपने मन से हारा

Sometimes, there are stories that just stay with you forever. They create a magic that leaves you hypnotized. They touch you with a caress that lasts forever. Their imprint speaks in ways you cannot express or articulate. 

There is one such story I read a few days back from For His Shelf....An Expression of Turbulence Inside. It is just one of the many flawless, mesmerizing poems by the writer. 

The story she weaves here is one that grips you by the exceptional choice of words. There is a flow, a melody that sings to you when you read it. The conclusion is left for the reader to make. And that is what hooked me for days. I kept thinking of what would be the best way to end it. The protagonist 'rajkumari' had enchanted me by her charm and grace, her purity and guilelessness. 

I attempted the conclusion and I hope it does justice to the story as a whole. 

If you wish to read the poem I have written, you have to first read the three parts. I have included the links below. Read the whole three parts as they are the context in which I write. My poem is incomplete without these gems. 

@findingnimi 

I owe you this one. I dedicate this post to your beautiful story. It touched my heart in a way very few things do. I hope that just like me, those who read this will be smitten by your charm.  

A BIG THANKS to you!

To the readers

Please read these parts before you move on.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The conclusion I wrote - Do share your thoughts.

क्या गलत ना होता गर भोलापन नम आँखों में भीगा रहता 

और कपटी अपनी जीत पे हँसता और धोखे का बिगुल बजाता?

अम्मा मेरी कहती थीं की छल से कोई बड़ा न आगे 

कोई जिसको हरा ना पाये वह खुद अपने मन से हारा 

कुछ ऐसा ही हुआ वहां जब राक्षस अपने महल में लौटा 

मग्न हुआ मदमस्त नशे में खुद को खुदा समझ वो बैठा 

खरे ह्रदय का मोल न समझा और निरीह पर दुराचार कर 

उसने था कोमल फूल को मसला 

मूढ़ ना समझा फूल की खुशबू लिपट गयी थी उससे कुछ ऐसे 

लाख जतन कर लेता लेकिन जुदा ना खुशबू को कर पाया 

जो सबको महकाती थी उस सुगंध ने ऐसा जकड़ा उसको 

हर सांस से उसकी आह निकलती हर आह की सिसकी उसे जलाती

तप्ति अग्नि अंतर्मन की, विष से भी घहरा घाव थी देती 

बंद महल में तड़प रहा वो राक्षस कैसे किसी से कहता 

गूँज हंसी की चुभती कानों को, एक भोला चेहरा देिखता हर दम 

महकता हर एक कूचा कूचा, घोट रहा था उसका अब दम 

थक कर बलशाली टूट गया था, वापस चला वहीँ जहां से 

फूल को तोड़ा था निर्दय ने, और कुचला था निर्मल मन को 

राजकुमारी को देखा, वो आज भी खुशियां बाँट रही थी 

लेकिन कुछ खोया खोया सा उसका चंचल मन लगता था 

बिखर गया राक्षस बगिया में जैसे मोम पिघल जाती है 

दूषित मन को बिछा के नीचे कम्पित गुहार में यह कह पाया 

अहंकार में डूबा था मैं सबको मैंने हरा दिया था 

राजकुमारी तूने लेकिन मुझे आज यह सबक सिखाया 

सच्चे मन से नहीं बड़ा कुछ नहीं जीत मैं उसको सकता 

जो त्रुटिरहित है दोषरहित है कैसे मैं उसपे दाग लगाता 

तेरे उजले मन ने कुछ ऐसे इस खोटे मन पे छाप है छोड़ी 

क्षमा नहीं मिलती है मुझको नहीं चैन से मैं जी पाता 

कुछ जादू कर निर्मल मन से, मेरी कालिख अब मिट जाए 

फूल बनूँ मैं बिन काटों के तेरी बगिया को महकाऊँ 

राजकुमारी के हाथों में गुलबहार की  कुछ पंखुड़ियां थीं 

राक्षस की बातों को सुन वो पंखुड़ियां उसने वहां बिछा दीं 

अंतर्मन राक्षस का स्वच्छ हुआ एक नवजीवन अब उसने पाया 

गुलबहार बन बगिया को अब रंग और खुशबू से महकाया 

 खुश हो राजकुमारी भी अब चली बाँटने कुछ और हंसी 

बरसे बादल भी इन्द्रधनुष संग अब कुदरत भी नाच उठी