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Migratory

This winter the hummingbird did not come to the banyan tree in front of my room. I saw leaves ageing and dying and every morning hoped for the chirps I so longed to hear. Perhaps, birds are like humans. They just fly away someday and never return. I forget that even the ones with wings can be escapists. Or is it me, judgmental? Expectations have given me many a seasonal disappointments.

People migrate from one place to the other; from one relation to another. Almost like seasons, they are. The traits, the aura, the magic each time is different. You can not blame one for doing that. Then that hummingbird is to be cursed first. But. Let us talk about the residue now. The remnance are the ashes which will kindle another candle. Yes emotions. I wonder if they change. I wonder if we feel differently if we love different people in different times. Is not that a migration too? Maybe some of you would be able to answer that yourself.

Our earthly belongings - they move too. In my office I am just a resource who helps in migrating data from one bank to another. We celebrate. People migrate from Orkut to Facebook to Twitter. Do they return? I do not know. But whenever we revisit, does it make you nostalgic even for a moment? Do you feel guilty that you have just 'left'? Do memories of machines bring you real tears?

I find strange resemblance of trees with emotions. Both can not wish to but be stationary. To each its own. Lots of pun, take yours.

Dreams are migratory. I wish I will die in my dream someday. And I will live to read this soliloquy in some other place, some other time. Till then I shall wait for the hummingbird to come back and give these words wings.

SoUmY@

Comments

Cinderella said…
Oh this post bereaves me of words. For I have been witness to so much of migration lately. So much that I have failed keeping track. I wish I died in my dreams. Reckless and obstinate as they are.

Haunting post.
Usha Pisharody said…
You have spoken out my unforgiving thoughts in this magical piece. This indeed is a soliloquy that has to be read, in migration! Perhaps only then will its full import strike deep.

I love the way you use the metaphors, so diverse, so varied, so eclectically contrasting, and yet bring them together in that one orbit of a migration!

Kudos! This is sheer poetry!

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Wish I could be a cloud one day I will love to be grey if its you To whom, through whom I traverse. Transparency is optimum; For I know you are unattainable like the sand escaping from the fist like the meaning assumed from the gist. look, oh yes, I can rhyme too. If you wish I can artify our world. Inspiration never needs a permit. You had asked, Why do I vomit blood. Interruptions in dreamy un-realism doesn't suit me. I know. So I write. So that I can breathe you in and breathe dreams out. Live long, you had wished. (Wished), did you? honestly? I will let it pass like just another Failed attempt to face reality Finds itself en-route to contamination. Oh! then what is pure? you may ask. Purity is not you, not me, but us. Purity is the way verses traverse. I will vomit to death one day. Do not pray for me. Pray for my poems who are quiet. Let them borrow my breaths. Let the poetry for us live. (And the footnotes conclude:) You - a miser in love Me - a happy lender. SoUmy@