Tears, the salt of our soul, overflow
Between life and death, recalling sweet
Memories and dreams of the past,
Flushing out from eyes, cleaning dejection
And depression, to rejoice fulfillment,
With battles, hazards and agony we had.
Recalled my old childhood days,
I wept and slept, mostly, as I saw,
My mother weeps, flowing tears,
Trying to cover it, not to be noticed,
But I saw her weeping, every night,
With tears uncontrolled, I perceived.
I never wept for toys, or on any loss,
That I had nothing to lose those days,
As I played with no toys, but with soil,
Stones, and wood-pieces, available,
As no idea, I had on toys as our kids do,
Play with costly things, these days.
No revenge, I felt, nothing unhappy,
No wants and needs, I had, knew not,
What I needed even, as we boys
And girls of my age, had our games,
Within lines and columns, we drew in soil.
Jumping and running, for score in time.
The limited time and space,
We kept in our games that taught me
The limitations, even in games,
Not to go beyond the permitted area,
To be saved not scoring fouls, getting out;
But felt free and happy in its limitations.
I was free, I remember, not controlled,
As other kids, from any of my deeds,
As I never gone beyond the lines,
I draw for myself in playing, bathing, eating,
Nor I demanded anything, beyond my reach
In the give and take process, I had with.
Tears, the uncontrolled flow of emotion,
Can’t be closed or hidden to suppress
As the reddish eyes, naturally exposed,
Fully filled with tears of joy, may be of pain,
That inevitably flows, out of joy and love too
We could segregate, but not suppressed.
My mother, beautiful she was, and seemed,
More beautiful, when she weeps,
That she tries to hide it, with her scarf
Or pillow-cover; and try to smile, I saw it,
Not transferring her sorrows to my mind,
Very careful, she was in hiding her sorrows.
Tears of success, tears of failure,
Tears of joy, and of helplessness,
I perceived different situation and its flows
That differs, but it causes and captures
The attention of all, than a smile that may win
The whole world, but agony ends nowhere.
I sat brooding over my mother’s tears,
That she never revealed its cause,
Until I got matured to understand things,
In its actual meaning, to wipe her tears,
With my hands, she burst out, I felt,
But mental agony, not curable, I knew not.
I got it, my father left mother, she wept
At my age of two, her agony and its cause,
Incurable, not because of rage or revenge,
Nor on contradictions on vanity; he left,
For his work, as usual to return, next week;
Didn’t come back, causing tears, at home.
I kept silence, as I couldn’t weep,
As I was not attached nor I have
Any idea of my father, a nice man,
Neighbors told, the exact copy, I am
My face, walks and looks, everything
Like him, they said, for me to feel him.
Looked into the mirror, myself
And saw, ‘not a good looking boy’,
Remembered what my sister remarked;
‘Am I ugly to see?’ I asked in to mirror,
That never replied and I felt sad,
Thinking, “if I am ugly, my father too.”
I thought a lot on my father, imagining,
May be his color, tempted him to leave
Wife and children, as my mother is fair
And beautiful to see, meaningless thoughts
As I know not, men and relations, then;
‘He left with no reason’ mother patted me.
‘Expected his return, waited every day,
Till evening, his usual time to reach home;
What else I can do, we have none to look after’.
It was then, I saw, the first drop of tears,
Appeared in my face; mother embraced me hard,
I can’t remember when I slept on that night.
Full of imaginations on my Dad,
My mind, filled with, whom I never saw.
No photo, no letter nor any thing concerned,
As of today, to recall, his presence at home,
No one had such a fate, as it was for me
And mother, do live, in frustration and agony.
She can’t cop up, meeting both ends,
The daily life, without him; and at last
She stopped waiting, after fifteen years,
Stopped weeping too, focusing my studies;
I too understood, how my mother,
And father loved, but left with, no reason.
‘Might have been died or met with
An accident; would have come otherwise’,
She solaced herself, with interrogations
And exclamations to herself;
Her thoughts, and tears, aroused my fear
And frustration, filled fully with tears,
Not adding beauty and power, but
Depression and dejection, the painful
Incidents that may wash off things
Out of our mind, the past and present.
I consoled myself; feeling tears of miseries
That is to overflow, as it comes out;
Slowly I forgot my father, busy with own
Studies, also my mother stopped talking
About father at home, engaging herself at work,
As on time, that washed away the images
And our sorrows of the past, wiped off.
Unconcerned, the personal emotions, we had.
But tears flowed from my eyes,
Many nights, imagining, unnecessarily,
What I would do, if my mother died,
As am weeping now, imagining my wife’s,
Dismal and my isolation, caused,
By her absence, insane I am on painful loss.
Remembering my neighbor’s words,
On my father, that, ‘Am just like him’,
My sobs within, I felt his love, I am loved,
As he is here with us, as I love my kids.
That, I measure him and get him now,
Through me, as he is me, just like my Dad.
Loving and kind, my Dad was,
That filled my eyes with tears,
The tears of joy, I realized, first in life,
That I see nothing but him, playing with me,
As I do with my kids, with tender love.
A life of no tears, I have had, not to suffer.
Presently I think of the metabolism.
The science of tears, the water-in-takes,
And out-flows, different means and ends,
For our body and mind, coming out
In different source, expressing differently,
The relief, retreat and peace, we have.
Tears of a child, for breaking his toy,
We ignore, but tears, losing our mother,
Can’t be covered, compensates with none,
We grow more, to become old, stopping all
Functions of glands, there ends the tears.
Not forgetting the tearful agonies of past.
Nothing, comparable, with agony
On tear less eyes, fatherless children weep,
Beg for food, I see mothers on streets
To feed their kids with no alternative,
As thrown away, by someone, I see here,
May be by fate, but destined to suffer.
My mother, and I, not suffered that much,
As not thrown outs like others, falling
In pits of darkness, mothers and their kids,
Crying, I see, with full of tears in my eyes,
Thanking God, for not throwing us in ditches
The deep sorrows, even to think at present.
If not wept at least once in life, I realized,
One would never see, the bright world,
As his eyes, not get cleaned, off sorrows,
Accidents, wounds, or hunger, filling hospitals,
To wipe the tears out, liberating ourselves,
The aid, we have to solace a weeping child.