Footprints on the snow

Walking on freshly laid snow, I often look back to see my footprints, my trail on a beautiful white blanket. It gives me a thrill of sorts, though I know it would soon be covered with more flakes of slow-falling snow. Leaving this beautiful, arctic wonder after three and a half years, it feels the same. When I look back, I see moments, happiness, sadness all impinged on my trail. It doesen't thrill me anymore, but I know it will stay there and with me, for a long, long time. I bid adieu to Finland, with some sadness in my heart, but I take with me a lot of very happy memories!

Umeed-e-Sahar

It was a quiet week at home, with a lot of time to myself. I decided to watch "Firaaq" a movie reflecting the mindsets of people affected by the post-Godhra massacre. A classic, according to me; the movie asks many questions that have some not-so-easy answers. The bit about an inter-faith marriage where the guy is forced to conceal his identity out of fear, was the most touching. The week ended with me listening to Faiz Ahmed Faiz's "Umeed-e-Sahar". Somewhere "Firaaq" and "Umeed-e-Sahar" seemed connected...! Perhaps the "Firaaq"(Search) ends at an "Umeed-e-Sahar" (Dawn of Hope)?

Hitting a wall!

I think everyone at some stage in their life, comes to a point, even if it is momentary, when they think they have hit a wall. Solutions, ideas seem hard to come by and it can be frustrating if the situation prolongs. I have hit a wall too few times, but the last month or so I have been hitting one very regularly - three times a week to be precise; and believe it or not, I am loving it! The only difference this time is that I have a squash racket in my hand and boy does it feel great when you get that perfect straight line shot right. Yes, I am 'squashing' my worries away these days. For that hour and a half that I am on the court - work, problems, stress is all forgotten. All my energy, all my attention and all of me is focused on one and only one thing alone - hitting a wall!

Oulu

It's been more than three years now, since I moved to Oulu; a small, quite, snowy, cosy and very homely city in Northern Finland...200 KM from the Arctic Circle. I still remember my apprehensions and those of my family when I decided to travel to this part of the world on a work assignment. Lets face it, Finland is not an America or a Britain or France, one of those 'magnificent' places you grow up hearing/reading about and always cherish a desire to visit. My only fleeting recollection of Finland before I was asked to travel there was in 6th grade during my Geography class. The text about "6 month summer and 6 month winter" was all that stayed and I still cannot remember if it was Finland or Norway that was under discussion. Plus there were these stories about how cold it can get there, how you had to drink alcohol to survive in that country (me being a teetotaller) and Polar bears in the Finnish jungles.

Thankfully most of the predispositions have proved to be untrue! All except the cold weather. It can get cold, yes very cold in Oulu. In my first year itself I experienced -30 degrees temperature in February and the experience was one to remember. Frosty eyelids, frosty hair, blue lips and frost-bitten lips is not something you expect from a 10 minute walk after all. Over time I started to enjoy the cold weather though and specially the abundance of snow (Oulu sure has lots of it). Seasons changed and the winter turned to spring, to summer, to Autumn and back! Four disctinct, but beautiful seasons of Oulu.

Qasid ke Aate Aate

Qasid Ke Aate Aate, Khat Ek Aur likh rakhoon,
Main jaanta hoon, jo wo likhenge jawaab mein.
....Mirza Ghalib

[Let me be ready with my reply, before the postman arrives,
for I already know what she would have written in response to my letter]

Ghalib the Master! Makes me wish I knew Urdu better, if only to understand more of his work. A rarest of rare poet. How subtly he portrays the relationship between two lovers, through the unread, undelivered letters carried by the postman. Hats of Sir!

The Solitary Glove

On the great expanse of a frozen sea,
lay a solitary glove, for all to see.

Left behind by a soul, with a mind depressed,
four fingers, a thumb, on the snow impressed.

The ice, the wind, what misery, what plight,
motionless...in a fading, blue light.

Once, the sun was out and the grass was green,
and he had felt the touch, of his darling queen!

All that was past...she was gone...she was lost,
leaving behind the pain and frost.

He had pined for those hands, he had longed for her love,
screamed the deafening silence of the solitary glove!

...Nadeem.

Imagination

Many years ago, I wrote a poem about the vivid details of a few dead leaves, stoked up by the wind. My leaves danced, they sang and were silenced together. They were like paint on a golden canvas and spoke more than I had expected to say with the piece. I had not seen an autumn till then, neither had I seen my leaves...sometimes the mind can travel to unknown places...to a few dead leaves!