Aging Dreams

All these dreams that have been housebound for so long, that's why
life—ordinary, dust-gathering—thrashes in the jar of desire!
I chase after dreams, and dreams race along an uncertain railway track.

Ma, Eid didn't come to my life this year either.
This year too I couldn't rest my head on your lap and tell you
of all the dreams in my kingdom—
of a quiet three-room house with a rooftop terrace,
of a red car to sweep through the city with you beside me.

Every time I've promised, next year everything will be fine, Ma.
But look, every time I breathe out an ocean of sighs
and somehow keep running away even when I try to face you!

Nothing ever seems to work out for me!
My dreams won't let themselves be caught, Ma!
I just can't make the connection between reality
and the promises I've made to you!
I have desire, yet it seems I have no means!
What good is a life loaded with means-less longings!

This year too I couldn't say, "Wear your sari, I'm taking you to Darjeeling!"
Or say, "Here, take this—my first salary!"
Dreams grow older, reality grows younger.

Ma, when will I find one unbroken stretch of leisure?
When will I come home, having entrusted life to desire's shoulders?
When will I shout with joy and hold you tight and say...
"Oh Ma! Do you hear? I got a job!"

You lost your husband before you could learn to dream!
And now, through your only daughter's inability, you're losing dreams too, bit by bit...!
Ma, were you born only to receive sorrow?