You... why do you come to mind today? Why do you come to mind?
Why do you come to mind today, tell me?
You ended it all.
Then why?
I struggled so hard to forget you. I had forgotten you too! Then why—
why do you come to mind today, tell me?
I questioned my heart over and over, found no answer. No, I found no answer at all. Could you tell me?
Why do you come to mind? Could you tell me? No, you couldn't. You couldn't tell me. You couldn't. You don't have that heart, that heart with which people speak what's deep within, understand.
That heart of yours is dead. Senseless like a corpse. Even voices soaked in tears find no response from that heart. Yes, your heart is like a corpse, a dead heart—one without desire, without longing, without words, without pain, without dreams, without yearning, without hope, without language, and without love. Cold as still stone is your heart, motionless, unchanging. Otherwise I wouldn't have to act like this today—carrying a burden of pain in my chest with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes. Acting? Yes, acting. I perform skilled, flawless acting. From dawn till night. Seeing my performance, no one could tell that I once desired a beautiful coward. And squeezed out all the crimson from my heart to love him.
Yes, I loved a coward deeply. No one knows this.
Is love a crime? No, it's not. Love is not a crime. Not a crime!
But loving a coward like you is a crime. I understood too late, far too late I understood you. Your form is beautiful, but your heart is not beautiful. Your heart is cast in iron, nothing can enter it. If something forces its way in, it gets hurt and returns.
Never mind that. Why do you come to mind, tell me? Why? I vowed not to remember you. Then why do you come to mind?
Was I defeated? Well, no one wins by loving a coward like you. Defeat is inevitable!
In saying one thing, foaming waves of other words crashed on the shore of my mind's ocean. What was I saying? Acting?
Yes, acting. My acting. My acting begins from morning. There's not a single gap in my acting. Not a single flaw. I fulfill everyone's demands, everyone's needs, no one has any complaints about my acting skills. But why do you come to mind today?
Why do you come to mind, tell me?
I won't remember you—this was my vow after hearing your words that day, when you yourself said to forget our acquaintance, to erase our acquaintance.
You said even more that day...
Let that be—I'll speak of it later. What was I saying? Acting?
Yes, I act, beautifully. Even the strictest judge's eye would find no flaw in my acting. But when rest comes after the performance, then descends exhaustion—deep weary exhaustion, exhaustion wrapped in the weight of pain. The form of my exhaustion is deeply distressed and pitiful.
The stillness after motion brings me pain—pain you don't know. How could you know? You are a coward, a merciless coward! You heartless coward... truly you have no heart; you only have life, life that wants to live by avoiding love, affection, tenderness, care, endearment, friends, bonds—everything.
Stone-hearted men you are, love has no value to you. You only play with women's body and soul for a couple of days.
You spend the treasures of the heart for your own needs, only as much as needed. But we are fools, so we love you, giving everything we have. And that's why we always lose, cry, and sometimes kill ourselves and die.
Never mind that. But why do you come to mind today, tell me? Why? I disciplined and refined my mind with the practice of never remembering you, through harsh vigils. Day after day. Then why did you come to mind, tell me? I don't know what you're thinking, probably nothing at all. The heart with which people think—you don't have that heart. You're a heartless person, what would you think anyway?
But I'm thinking, how many more cowards like you exist! Though you may not have a heart, you have beauty—extraordinary beauty, which enchanted me.
And left me empty and indifferent. Truly, as beautiful as you are on the outside, you are equally ugly on the inside. I didn't know this; if I had known, would I have emptied myself like an autumn field?
Truly, what pain I felt that day when you said the depth of our acquaintance was not what you desired! And even less desired—love after acquaintance, marriage after love. Consequence after consequence.
You said so many other things too!... Truly, how could you say such things, tell me? Such harsh words, so clearly spoken... in the dead river of your heart, didn't even a tremor of hesitation ripple?
You also said that day, where one must fight life to survive, where dealing with the heart is luxury. Then you said, where poverty is stark, love is false. Love is the blind delusion of the human heart. Love has no form, no fragrance, no rhythm, no taste. Love is meaningless.
What a coward you truly are! Love has no value to you! Is that really so?
Then why did the prince, for love's sake, leave his crown on the royal throne and walk smiling into the streets? And is the tale of Laila-Majnu just a tale? Then is Shirin-Farhad false? Romeo-Juliet nothing? Does Shah Jahan's Taj Mahal not bear the mark of his immortal love?
Is all the love in the world merely delusory and worthless? Well, to you it is. Love has no value to you.
You're not even a man of flesh and blood. You're a stone-covered stone man. That's why precious love seems worthless to you.
You know what I think? I think, like Ahalya, the 'you' inside you has turned to hard stone by someone's curse. Never mind!
Why do you come to mind, tell me? On winter's pale evenings, many memories come to mind, many tales of affection, but why do you come to mind? Why do you come to mind so much?
I won't remember you anymore—I said this that day, silently to myself in front of you. But I was defeated!
Truly that day, like a bird pierced by deep pain, I sat motionless in the chair before you, wounded by anguish. I couldn't speak a single word, but you kept talking continuously. I couldn't hear any more of your words, my ears had gone deaf from the gunpowder of pain.
At some point I got up and left, blinded by tears. Resentment? No, no, I didn't resent you that day. Not that day, and I don't resent you today. One who doesn't understand resentment—to resent such a person also requires resentment! Never mind!
Why do you come to mind today, tell me? I had vowed not to remember you! Women's hearts are like jasmine flowers—soft and beautiful... that's why impressions last longer.
Acting? Yes, I act—on the bright illuminated stage of day.
Food, market, rice, lentils, salt, oil, turmeric, chilies, garlic, onions, spices, ginger, tobacco, betel nuts, catechu, betel leaves, lime.
Meat, fish, potatoes, eggplant, bottle gourd, cabbage, pumpkin, beans, greens.
Stove, wood, coal, water tap, maid, servant, pots, pitchers, plates, bowls, glasses, spoons.
Sewing, machine, tailor, grocer, sweeper, washerman, barber, basin, milk, yogurt, ghee, butter.
House, sari, car, jewelry, relatives, family, needs, beggars, the poor.
Father-in-law, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, brother-in-law, elder brother-in-law, husband's younger brother, husband, children, household, want, complaints, pride, wounded pride, anger, affection, love, tenderness, laughter, tears.
—Submerged in all this, I perform, I perform flawlessly, no one can detect the deep crack within. When the performance ends and I find respite, the clock strikes twelve.
And then my weary, wounded mind and body take refuge in the foaming white bed, memory strikes like a serpent, and all night long I bleed tears from my eyes. The salty cascade soaks the pillow, soaks my clothes. And soaks my face, my eyes, my chest.
You don't know any of this, no one knows any of this. So many memories come flooding back, so many words from so many days. Our countless conversations, discussions, arguments, debates about everything—life, youth, philosophy, science, humanity, animals, birth, death.
How we two would raise storms with our exchange of words. I remember that day when we first met, moments after the door knocker rattled, you came up and opened the door. Your face showed irritation, your eyes held wonder. And in my face and eyes was nothing but amazement at your exquisite beauty.
Then we were introduced, we talked, we met again and spoke so many, many words. So many, many times. So many times!
Do you remember any of those words? But I remember, I remember every word.
Life brings one auspicious moment, and my life had one too. But that moment came to me not as blessing but as curse. So today, in my solitude, only these pearl-drops from my eyes remain as my treasure. Though I am a queen, I am a beggar. My heart's wealth was spent loving a coward.
Is the fault yours, or mine? Why did I love a coward? Love knows no place, time, person, judgment, or discrimination—that's why love's end is always tragic.
Summer's fierce sun will pour fire on the earth's breast, forests and hearts will burn. Thirsting for water, the chataka bird will gaze at the clear blue sky, and then floods of tears will rush from my pain-filled eyes. Monsoon rains will fall on the earth's breast. The clouds will rumble their deep lament in the veena's weeping behind the dark sky. The peacock will call desperately for its mate. The lovesick yaksha's sighs will swirl in the wind like storms, and then floods of water will rise in my wet, slippery eyes.
Autumn's golden sun will descend to earth's breast in countless streams like dancing waterfalls, green rice ears will sway with new joy. The mustard maiden will open her eyes in wonder, in delight. The shiuli-ketaki-malati chambers will spread their fragrance. How many bees will come! In the afternoon sky's blue fathomless ocean, doves will swim with their mates.
Then emerald tears will fall from my grief-pierced eyes. Late autumn's gray mist will veil the earth's breast everywhere, the sun's last rays will draw lines, long red lines at the dark gateway, melancholy evening will fall in the pale twilight. Caravans of birds will fly toward empty horizons, and then droplets of water will fall from my tear-heavy, distant eyes.
Winter's harsh coldness will draw frost's veil over the earth's breast. Dew will fall like pearls. Nature will sleep in her snowy grave. Reed clusters will bow down to the grass's slender bodies. Gentle shefali petals will drop from their yellow stem-bonds. Proud karabi will weep and fall on earth's soiled bed. Loose garments will slip from the champa. Ruby stars will burn in the violet sky. Frost-drenched moonlight will come to earth's paths. In the distance, the mate-less, love-sick bird will call. Then cascades of water will fall from my aching eyes.
Then spring will come. Beautiful spring. Spring wrapped in fragrance, rhythm, color, leaves, and flower-hues will come. Spring's crimson red will scatter vermillion on the earth's breast, will weave passion. Vines, leaves, flowers will bloom with new life. Fragrance will rush forth. Butterflies will spread their wings, flying from flower to flower in intoxicated joy. Palash and shimul will light fires on every branch.
Gulmohar's golden tender petals will fall on dusty paths. The southern breeze will weave nets, the cuckoo in the mind's forest will sing spring's victory song. Then fountains of water will rise from my sorrow's fire-bright eyes.
The bird in my mind's cage will sing a spring filled with weeping—friend, it has never come before. This is how the remaining days of my life will pass. You will never know, no one will know. So be it.
How anyone's days are passing, why should you care? You are just a piece of stone—with no sign of life.
But tell me, why do I keep remembering you? I never wanted anything in life. Wealth, honor, fame, reputation, saris, bangles, houses, cars, jewelry, servants, maids, respect, power—I wanted none of this, I never wanted any of it. I only wanted a small nest wrapped in green dreams. Where there would be only love, nothing but love. But I didn't get that.
So my heart is filled with deep emptiness, that's why I was drawn to you, that's why I loved you. I thought you would fill the empty spaces in my heart. But no, nothing happened, the cracks in my heart only grew deeper.
I misunderstood you, was foolishly enchanted by a mirage. Before I loved you, if I had no happiness, at least I had peace.
Even that is gone, everything is gone. Everything is gone, only money and performance remain as my assets. Like crying for a drop of water in the ocean's midst, my condition today is like a homeless woman's. But I never asked you for anything either, cruel one! I only wanted to gather the pearls of your words and string them into a necklace. Even that I didn't get. From any of you, I received nothing.
With this pain in my breast, I will bid farewell to the world on life's last day. Suicide? No, I will not commit suicide. This life wrapped in joy and sorrow, I will never get back twice in one lifetime. With memory's fragrance, burning and burning like incense, I will fade away on my own one day.
Now I must go. It is midnight in Magh. Outside, winter's dew is falling like glass fragments. Cold wind blows with needle-sharp intensity. The world is wrapped in the deep sleep of a frozen night.
With sleepless eyes I simply lie here, wrapped in the quilt's warmth. From my window I can see the coconut tree's green braids. Today all the green in my life has turned gray. In the distant sky the morning star burns—like a teardrop from my eyes. But why do I keep remembering you?