words

shundori chhayaar pane toru cheye thake
she taar apon tobu paye na tahake

All my life I have valued words. I have believed in the power of words. Believed that when 'words rise from the depth of truth' they hit the listener to rise to the speaker's reality. That words once uttered will live forever. Traveling through space and time. I have talked about the knowing smiles they throw at you. I was proud of the words that I wrote for you.



I didn't sleep yesterday. I was searching my words. Wiping the dust off them. Looking at them with the eyes of an old lady admiring her marriage crockery. The words that came to me. All the time. I would bring them out at the right time.



And I know better now. Words are a wretched burden. They are. Their sheer uselessness made me angry. Helplessly angry. And the thoughts stared. Like street dogs. When strangers walk by. The strangers wore glasses. And chains around their waists. And they looked around at the streets like the dogs weren't there. Like they did not count. They wagged their tails silently. Disappointed. Trying to draw attention. Like a three year old kid in a teenager's crucial para cricket match team. Unwanted. They wanted to curl their tails up and run away. And so they did.



And to think that I had known this all these years.