This is a beautiful poem that I found on Youtube next to a scene from Love, Actually
I loved you, and I probably still do,
And for a while the feeling may remain...
But let my love no longer trouble you,
I do not wish to cause you any pain.
I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew,
The jealousy, the shyness - though in vain -
Made up a love so tender and so true
As may God grant you to be loved again.
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
Translated by Genia Gurarie, 11/10/95
on a day when i have heard the word actually being used, misused and abused, when everything, including Harry Potter would have been dubbed as 'actual', when the solace is in destiny, which again would be 'actual', and so would everything be which isnt factual. i look at the white mug which survived the hard ride of a cargo hold, and being thrown arond and slept on, of the kite outside my window, fluttering for the last 2 months, the love messages it once carried now washed away, its body in tatters, knowing fully well that the only way it can survive now is by hanging on to tree but it still tries to free itself, and as i listen to Notting Hill songs, thinking, searching for my 'fiqrat', just like the kite. Its been two months to Uttarayan, two months to the Alumni meet where the white cup was a piece of memorablia, two months to me being the superhuman me, calling upon the weakened, sapped out, hollowed me to try to be the same man again. And i say now, enough. Enough Now. Life was beautiful even in Auschwitz. even in the Gulags. even in Room no 5. an i smile, dont know at what but i do. and isnt this what i do best ? and i smile more . .laughing for no reason. "Ya to main deewana hoon ya yeh Teri taufeeq hai !" and the smile sticks.
