ख्वाहिश

एक उदासी सी बैठी है आज ज़हन में

मानो मन फिर कोई ख्वाहिश कर बैठा है

जैसे कोई सितारा चमक उठा है

जो नज़रो के पास सहि, पर साँसों से दूर है

 

जैसे किसी झरने ने अभी-अभी इठलाना सीखा हो

जैसे दिलकश हुस्न ने अभी-अभी इठलाना सीखा हो

जैसे सर्दी की हवाओं ने धूप की चादर ओढ़ी हो

जैसे बारिश की बूँद से धरती महकी हो

 

दिल में अरमानो की ऐसी कश्मकश सी जगी है

की लहरों संग समुन्दर में गोते लगाने को जी करता है

और फिर किनारे पहुँच किसी चाहत को बाहों में लिए

आसमान पर ढलते सूरज के तिलक को निहारने का जी करता है

 

ये जो जज़्ब-जवानी की मोहलत ज़िन्दगी ने दी है

इसने सनक ने कभी सनत को जाना ही नहीं

ये तो सिर्फ इश्क़-ऐ-तराने गाने को बेताब

वक़्त-दर-वक़्त नए सफर और हमसफ़र की तलाश करता है

 

एक उदासी सी बैठी है आज ज़हन में

मानो मन फिर कोई ख्वाहिश कर बैठा है

शायद कोई सितारा टूटा है आज आसमां में

शायद साँसों को रोकने को चल पड़ा है

 

विशाल गुप्ता

अप्रैल २१, २०२२

Bookmarks 2

Continued from Bookmarks

‘I’m sorry,’ he hears himself say, years later

‘It’s okay,’ he hears, ‘you don’t need to’

‘I know. But you deserve to hear one

And I need to say one, so might as well…’

 

I suppose in the end, the whole of life

becomes an act of letting go

But what hurts the most

is not taking a moment to say goodbye

 

Would I like to go back to her?

I guess that’s not possible anymore

She is a different person now

the girl I left behind, doesn’t exist anymore

 

And I think to myself

How is that different from finding

someone else’s bookmark

from someone else’s book?

 

Someone, who craves that hug as much

albeit, not because I am her missing piece

But missing pieces nonetheless she has

broken off from another story, not unlike mine

 

We might not fit perfectly together like a puzzle

or maybe we will

or maybe we will collide into each other like continents

giving rise to mountains

 

I have lost my bookmark

and found someone one’s

years later, when all is forgotten

does it make a difference what I find?

 

Vishal Gupta

July 15^th, 2022

And the Mountains Echoed

Years ago, when I was backpacking across western Europe

I came across a majestic bronze mountain,

proudly making its way from the ground

I stood in its shadow and called out. It heard me

It lent me an ear I had missed for so long in city lights

Then, having pondered over my words for a while, it howled back

Almost as loudly as I had howled at it

Almost with the same words

The answer, it turns out, was not very different from the question

And I didn’t know if the mountain echoed me

or did I echo the mountain

But I did find answers, within its reflection of my words

And my words became more meaningful, having bounced off the mount

And I knew that I was understood

And felt a longing, that I had not felt in a while

A longing of words left unspoken,

and maybe hence never echoed back

Secluded, I wished to stay, and continue the dialogue

But alas! my trail only went so far

And city lights called me back

And I wonder am I home in these lights I recognize so well

Or was I home at the foothills of those mountains

Which refused to embrace me

 

Vishal Gupta

5^th September, 2022

We live, we love, we lie

Tired from the endurements of life

I turn to a face vaguely familiar, looking for respite

For judgments galore in familiarity that breeds contempt

And keeping appearances disallows meaningful deviation

 

She looks up, startled, not ready for words bearing burden

Her eyes speak of her understanding to my dilemma

Her lips tremble with ‘why me’ ‘why now’

Her heartbeats leave the space between us with silence

 

She says she wishes to understand me further

And she wishes she was brave enough to wish for her wishes

But she waits, why, she knows not truly

She only waits and wishes for others to wish her wishes

 

Terrible way to live a life… I tell her it is

For most often left bereft she shall be

For the world knows not the desires of a single heart

And her unspoken words would never be heard amidst noise so vast

 

‘Why,’ she asks, ‘can the world not understand her heart’s desire’

‘Because,’ I say, ‘the world fears understanding her wrong’

So it does not attempt to understand her at all

The fear of rejection overpowers the possibility of the extraordinary

 

We would rather live diminished lives ourselves

than risk running fast and breaking something apart

Our hearts are fragile and we protect it at all costs

The ships we carry, stay on the docks

 

There are two types of people in the world

the “why nots” and the “what ifs”

The “why nots” stay fulfilled,

the “what ifs” stay safe

 

The “why nots” are daring, but often they fail

Their stories are what scare the “what ifs”

That the “what ifs” stay safe, as most humans do

Thinking sometimes, being daring is simply being foolish

 

But it is impossible to live without failing at something

unless you live so cautiously that you might as well

have not have lived at all

in which case you have failed by default

 

I ask her what is she

She says she would like to be a “why not”

but she is a “what if”

And mostly “it’s not meant to be”

 

I ask her if she can move to “what if it’s meant to be”

Not so far away from where she is

She asks me what am I

I smile and say, I’m whatever she needs me to be

 

Vishal Gupta

June 11^th, 2022

ASOIAF - From King to Heir

Season 1 episode 1 of House of the Dragon (HoTD) came with a massive plot point not previously known anywhere in the books – that Aegon the conqueror foresaw the coming of the long night. Note Viserys’ quote carefully.

This reveals Aegon knew that something was lurking in the north beyond the wall, but didn’t exactly know what. Viserys categorically avoids mentioning the word “whitewalkers” or “dead” or “Others” which were common words used by many Westerosi to describe the demons of the long night. King Viserys was a big history nerd and surely knew the words. Yet he chose to remain vague and said only the words “whatever dwells” to show that he does not believe in the story of the whitewalkers, but knows that some threat exists.

The white walkers would not appear for another two centuries. In this post we explore the following questions:

1. How this secret was passed down from king to heir,
2. Times when it almost became lost and how was it found again,
3. Who apart from kings and heirs knew about it, and
4. How it was finally lost for good

Sons of the Dragon

There are no clear accounts of Aegon the conqueror officially naming an heir. Logically, Aenys was the likely successor to Aegon.

1. Aenys was elder to Maegor by five years,
2. Aenys stayed close to his father unlike Maegor who mostly stayed at Dragonstone with his mother where Dragonstone was not yet the de-facto seat of the heir, and
3. From time to time Aegon allowed Aenys to practice with Blackfyre – Aegon’s sword

So it was no surprise when Aenys proclaimed succession upon Aegon’s death. Aegon would have surely been serious about the succession if he was serious about the prophecy being passed from king to heir. Or maybe every Targaryen at the time simply knew about the prophecy as a family secret.

 

Aegon was not the only one who conquered Westeros. He was joined by both his sister-wives – Visenya and Rhaenys. How would he have convinced them to leave generations of comfort at Dragonstone and conquest a continent by his side? If Aegon was inspired by his prophetic dream, wouldn’t the same have been the motivation for his sister-wives?

 

So maybe Aegon just told Aenys about the prophecy. Or maybe he told both his sons. Or maybe he told his sister-wives and Visenya told Maegor when he became king. Or maybe he just told anyone who would listen. But the secret survived to both Aenys and Maegor. However, Maegor never had children of his own. He did name princess Aerea as his heir, but her claim to the throne was never taken seriously. 

The Old King

 ‘Aegon the Dragon and his sisters conquered the Seven Kingdoms (six of them, at least), but it was Jaehaerys the Conciliator who truly made them one.’

-        writings of Umbert, Fire and Blood

 

It is understandable that Jaehaerys knew about Aegon’s prophecy.

1. Jaehaerys was an old wise king who single-mindedly worked towards improving and uniting the realm,
2. Viserys passing down the prophecy to Rhaenyra means at some point old king Jaehaerys passed it down to Viserys at some point
3. Jaehaerys took the matter of succession very seriously, knowing mayhaps that the Targaryen secret must not be lost
4. He established faith in the Targaryen dynasty – something none of his predecessors had done yet

Jaehaerys was only three years old at the time of his grandfather king Aegon’s death. So he couldn’t have heard it from the Dragon himself. Nor would he have heard it from Maegor who despised any children of his brother Aenys and had named princess Aerea as his heir. So Jaehaerys must have heard of the prophecy from his elder brothers. Aenys had named Aegon his heir and had likely told him of the prophecy. But Aegon was killed by Maegor. The only possibility remains that before dying, Aegon might have anticipated the coming conflict with Maegor and as a measure of safety, might have shared the prophecy with his brothers.

 

Another possibility exists. Aegon and Viserys, both elder brothers of Jaehaerys were children at the time of Aegon I’s death. Maybe Aegon did not consider the prophecy to be a “secret” and freely told his grandsons of the prophecy as he had told his sons and sister-wives. After all, the more people knew about the coming conflict, the more they would band together. That’s exactly what Jon Snow did as soon as he came to know of the threat of the whitewalkers. He didn’t consider it as a “secret”. In fact he rallied as many people as he could for the coming conflict. Maybe that’s what Aegon the Conqueror wanted to do. But over the generations, the “prophecy” took the shape of a “secret.”

This also set a new precedent that naming an obvious heir to the throne is one of the most important tasks of a Targaryen king, lest the prophecy be lost during succession. This is also why Jaehaerys understood why Targaryens could not afford another war for succession. He had already seen what a Targaryen civil war looked like. It risked the prophecy being lost. A war also meant that the Targaryens would not be as strong as they needed to be when the threat from the north finally arrived.

 

So the secret passed on from Aegon to Jaehaerys with whom it stayed quietly for the next 50 years.

 

Prophecy becomes a Secret

Towards the end of his reign with both his sons dead, old king Jaehaerys called for a great council where Viserys was named the heir to the throne. That’s when Viserys learnt about the prophecy. Either Jaeraerys revealed the prophecy to Viserys as a “secret” or that element was added by Viserys himself. Perhaps the “wise king” Jaehaerys added the element of secrecy so that Targaryens would never name multiple heirs to the throne, thus avoiding a confusion regarding succession for generations to come. But it becomes very difficult in a dynasty ruling over two centuries to avoid questions of succession and accidental deaths. At some point, some king (or queen) needed to establish a better mechanism than the prophecy simply moving from king to heir by word-of-mouth. It risked the prophecy getting diluted or confused over the years. Viserys didn’t care about these problems of secrecy or dissipating or getting misunderstood. He named princess Rhaenyra as his heir and told her of the prophecy as a “secret.”

The Dance of the Dragons

The Dance of the Dragons was a turbulent time in the Targaryen family when the question of succession was in confusion. We know for a fact that Viserys never named anyone his heir other than Rhaenyra and hence never passed on the secret to anyone else. So the secret was never passed down to Aegon II. Then how would the secret be passed on for the next two centuries? Even though Aegon II ruled after Viserys, his children or heir never ascended to the throne. The throne eventually went to Rhaenyra’s children. Both her living sons after the Dance of the Dragons eventually became kings. To protect the secret, Rhaenyra may have told all her children of the prophecy. Or maybe just the children she bore with her uncle Daemon whom she loved. Either way, the secret passed down to Aegon III, his children, Viserys II, and finally to Aegon IV. Where things went… “unworthy” again.

Aegon the unworthy

Aegon the unworthy did many heinous deeds in his time. But he named only one heir and never wavered in his decision. Even though in later years, Aegon IV’s favor may have shifted to his bastard son Daemon Blackfyre more than his legitimate son Daeron II. But he never officially changed the succession. Protecting the prophecy, and the secret.

 

The Prince that was Promised

The prophecy is not heard of in the books for the next 78 years passing from king to heir through Daeron II, Aerys I, Maekar I, Aegon V, and then to Jaehaerys II where we see the prophecy again. But by this time, it has taken a different shape. Rhaegar confirmed that it is still called a “song of ice and fire” as Aegon I had dreamt. But now it was added with elements of a Prince that was Promised (PtwP). Also now it is not just a secret passed from king to heir but also finds its way to some texts.

 

It appears that the prophecy does not focus as much on the threat that lurks in the north, but on the part that a good king must be on the throne when the threat emerges. By this time the Targaryens have also had their fair share of bad kings, so they know that merely being a Targaryen is not enough. The Targaryen needs to be an able king who can unite the seven kingdoms and rule well.

 

By this time, some other Targaryen dreams (or wishes?) seem to have also gotten incorporated in the prophecy. Jaehaerys II made his children Aerys II and Rhaella marry each other despite the protests of his king-father Aegon V and both the children. But Jaehaerys II was stubborn on the match as he has been foretold that “the prince who was promised would be born of their line”. Now the prophecy had changed significantly and makes no mention of a threat of a terrible winter. Or maybe that’s only what the records tell us. Maybe the prophecy grew to include a prince who would fight the northern threat in the coming long night. But the actual prophecy of the long night was still only passed down from king to heir. And so Jaehaerys II passed down the reign and the prophecy to Aerys II.

 

Rhaegar

Aerys II named Rhaegar his heir and passed the prophecy to Rhaegar. Where we meet a very significant deviation in the prophecy. Ser Barristan Selmy tells Daenaerys that one day Rhaegar was reading a scroll, safter which he said, ‘I will require a sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.’

 

There are many accounts which mention that Rhaegar did not like to fight. He loved his silver-stringed harp more than he loved his lance. But he excelled at anything to which he put his mind. So when he realized he must become a warrior, he got good at it.

 

Losing the prophecy

What did Rhaegar find in the scrolls that compelled him to become such a great warrior? Did he believe himself to be the PtwP? There was enough evidence for it.

1. Rhaegar was born on the day of the tragedy of Summerhall. The prophecy described the PtwP would be born “amidst smoke and salt”
2. He was a fine young man who bore the name of a great dynasty.

But Rhaegar did not know what was the intent of the PtwP. So he simply prepared himself for any challenge that might appear before him.

 

Question. Knowing the importance of the Targaryen prophecy and believing himself to be the PtwP; would Rhargar have risked burning putting the seven kingdoms in revolt and risking the Targaryen rule simply because he loved Lyanna? Or did he see a greater purpose behind it? What did Rhaegar know?

We also see that Maester Aemon, Aegon V’s elder brother, also had some idea of the prophecy. When Rhaegar mentioned the prophecy to Maester Aemon, the old maester agreed that Rhaegar might be the PtwP. But added that the dragon must have three heads. Rhaegar did not ignore this as mad rumblings of an old master, but carried it to the point that he married Lyanna Stark which eventually started Robert’s rebellion.

 

The old maester might have known more. At the time of Robert’s rebellion he wanted to go south and help Rhaegar. Rhaegar might have revealed the prophecy to Maester Aemon. Or maybe his father Maekar did, believing him to be a candidate for the throne. Either ways, by the time of Aerys II’s reign, the PtwP seems to be a prevalent story at least among the Targaryens.

 

Later, Rhaegar thought his son Aegon from Elia Martell would be the PtwP and his would be “the song of ice and fire,” which tells us that the prophecy of the PtwP is related to Aegon I’s prophecy of the terrible winter. But he also thought that he needed another son as “the dragon must have three heads.” And so he married Lyanna Stark in a secret ceremony to resulting in the birth of Jon Snow, who did eventually mitigate the threat from the north. But the secret, if it did exist that far, was lost when Robert’s warhammer fell on Rhaegar’s chest. And that’s when the prophecy was lost forever.

Ego

Bearing the burdens of the world

Tired of making sure the world goes round

Sitting on the chair, with the weight of the universe

Life, tires me out

As I start to look for respite

From myself, and from my life

 

The life that requires me to believe in myself

Like a spider, I remain the king of my own world

Apex predator, king of the castle, master of the my own manor

omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient, omnificent

And with vigilant agony, only I understand

heavy is the head that bears the crown

 

I see the path that I need to cross

I know I shall, I ask, “then what?”

Then another opens, and then another

and each challenge I shall overcome

In a little game of my own making

I am the master, and I am the pawn

 

But bear the burden must I,

for every trigger that is pulled and every wound that is scorched

And it is not only the terrors that burden my soul

I also bear the burden of every gleaming heart and every river that flows

For I must do all that is in the world, both righteous and wrong

And must smile at the wins and cry at the losses

 

I wish I could, I wish I could live dispassionately

Just ensuring the smoothness of the clouds, without feeling responsible for it

Like Arjuna did, as he won the battle

but placed every shred of credit to his charioteer

But alas! I have no charioteer to guide my life

So I bear the weight of that as well, as I pull my life along

 

No God shall come to my aid, as I hold the reigns of my life

Dragging it along, I move my life and with it of so many else

I see my burden, my responsibility, my Ego

that I carry without sharing

Without believing in Krishna, the burden stays mine

And this I must bear like Atlas, who cannot shrug

 

Vishal Gupta

16^th June, 2022

Dying of the Light

Hi. I'm going to rant for a bit

You know why we fear loneliness

Because no matter how good or bad times turn in our life

We will go through low phases

And when that happens

We need someone by our side

We might ignore them in good days

Or take them for granted

But when that dark trough of life comes

We're simply unable to go through it alone

We need a system of support to guide us through

To listen to us and tell us of things that we're unable to see at the moment

And basically to be there

Because that's the time you don't want to be alone

The person might as well be your oppressor

and why you are in the low phase to begin with

But we don't care

We will endure all ridicule and depression

But we wouldn't want to be alone in the dark phase

That's how people become dependent on their oppressors

 

And this person, our listener companion guide support

might as well be a stranger

it's easier to rant to a stranger

Because those who know you, know you

And it's difficult to be honest with someone you know

You’ve got to keep up appearances

you know you will face them tomorrow again

And you do not want them to know you’re weak

Specially if you already feel lonely in the world

That means you don't have someone to be honest with to begin with

So you seek out strangers

People who have no premonitions about you

No pre-concieved notions

They are the better listeners

Because they don't care

 

Vishal Gupta

16^th June, 2022

Stopping by the Woods on a Dark Evening

Continue from Stopping by the Hills on a Cold Evening

Whose lands these are who cares actually

He lives in the capital probably

He will not allow me stopping here

And trespassers will be shot surely

 

My cab driver must think me queer

To stop without a motel near

Between the roads away from home

The dark and mist instills the fear

 

He turns his head and raises brows

To ask if there’s some sorrow

The only other sounds’ that sweep

Of hounds barking and family rows

 

The roads are treacherous, dark, and deep

And my promises are all fulfilled

Now take me home and let me sleep

Now take me home and let me sleep

 

Vishal Gupta

10^th June, 2020

Pictures

Traveling through the vast expanses of life and experiences

she often asks me why I don’t take any pictures along the way

To remember the journeys I’ve been on and the days that I’ve seen

and to show to people of the adventures I recount stories of ever so often

 

I say how can I capture with a picture the smooth sail of a bird across the sky

with wings spread far apart and the tail making adjustments for direction

as it flaps momentarily to gain higher ground, returns to its remarkable glide

circling the blue heavens making friends with clouds and lights

 

How can I capture with a camera, the music of the sky when the sun sets

When waves crash on the shore and the birds chirp in salute to the setting sun

And the sky is filled with a spectrum of colors ever-changing ever-spectacular

And the music my heart makes, when I look at the Sun disappearing behind the horizon

 

How can pictures do justice with the sweet smell of freedom

as one runs across a meadow of recently blooms flowers

And of the smell of the first drops of rain touching the scorched earth

Of the scents a butterfly pursues hunting sweet nectar off flowers anew

 

How can pictures capture the span of wings, the expanse of clouds

the beating of a heart, the quenching of thirst

My words allow my stories, and my poems tell the tale of my experiences

Perhaps someone could capture it with a camera, perhaps better than my words

But I could not present my stories in any better way

And words will tell my tales of life and experiences

for me, for you, and for all those to come

 

Vishal Gupta

20^th March, 2022

Apathy

Such is the enormity of my emotions

that I’m unable to feel anything at all

Like how the mountains stand still

hugged by clouds and moss

Silent, gargantuan, patient

looking on upon the world

 

Like the sullen shoulder of the soldier

left standing alone on the battlefield

with nothing but scars and memories

bloodied hands and bloodied soul

carcasses abound, both friends and enemies

Wondering, what was the point of it all

 

Like the scream of terror of the Earth

when thunderstorms strike

crackling air with light and sound

hitting the Earth with all its might

The Earth just endures, and stays for the next blow

it knows, the storms will pass away

 

Like the call of unrequited love

the wonder which begs “what if”

The unspoken words, which scream the loudest

The prison of hope, that poisons the soul

The constant anxiety, of an unreturned message

The creeping hopelessness, that spares none

 

Like the memory of a beautiful experience

unreplicated, it grows bigger than the truth itself

Staying a memory, it stays unscathed

Lived, it risks being tarnished

the eventual hope of reciting the memory

silently stays bigger than the memory itself

 

Like the music that stays within the mind

cannot be expressed, sung, or found

it cradles the mind in tired moments

yet is somehow elusive in times on need

nameless, it lingers on

unexpressed, till its soothe turns to horror

 

Like the feeling of watching a loved one go away

hoping till the last breath for another moment

unspoken, but understood

knowing, that the meet was only to separate again

hoping, that the day comes

when each separation will only be to meet again

 

Such is the enormity of my emotions

that I’m unable to feel anything at all

just taking the step after the next

knowing what this life needs of me

And so I keep moving, looking for the “exit”

To find home, once more

 

Vishal Gupta

27^th March, 2022

Tell Me

‘What would you like to know,’ she chuckles and asks

He smiles, reaches out to hold her hand

‘Tell me everything,’ he says

‘Tell me of the things that mattered

Things that brought joy and sorrow and despair and hope

And smiles and tears and nausea and nostalgia

Tell me of love and loss and birth and death

 

Tell me of the embers that still burn in your heart

and ones that you’ve learnt to dowse down

Of unfulfilled hopes and dreams that never took flight

and accomplishments you look back at and fill you with pride

 

Tell me of the love that was never meant to be

and the one that got away before the story was complete

Of the songs that you can never yet return to

and ones you think of in quiet lonely nights

 

Tell me of all the places you found yourself at home

and all the crowds where you felt alone

Of days when surrounded by friends, your heart found joy

and nights when a you were so lonely, you couldn’t even cry

 

Tell me of the despair that lurches on to your soul like a demon

and no matter how much you try, you can’t get it off your back

Of days when it’s simply impossible to find a reason to leave the bed

I will bring you answers you need as best, and an ear of empathy at least

 

Tell me your story, and listen to mine

for when all is said and done, that’s all that shall remain with us

A story of yours, a story of mine

a perhaps a story, that we may call ours

 

Vishal Gupta

20^th March, 2022

City Lights

I’ve always felt uncomfortable in a new city. Not only do I not recognize the buildings, the buildings do not recognize me as well. This is not helped by the fact that I’ve never lived in any city for more than 5 years, which was only once. But Mumbai is a city that does tend to hold you. Men had to resort to eating bats for Mumbai to be able to send me away.

 

And that brought me to Kolkata. A city I grew up in, I am told. But Kolkata smells like a city I knew only in the distant past and never in the present. I suspect even the residents feel the same way about the city. But I know that it takes a few years to feel the city as your own. I never understood why. I just thought that it was an inexplicable process that you had to go through. And so I endured the vagaries of ‘the city of joy’ and the ‘art capital’ of the country while it offered me neither joy nor art.

 

That changed recently, when I finally found a friend in the city. A lunch over drinks turned into a sunset and a sunset turned into a walk admiring the city lights as street vendors created their own carnival on dirty footpaths. A tall abominable tower stared at us from a distance like a phallus of a sick beast. Parks spread out for acres without end in the dark provided lovers required respite. And my own inability to find a place without loud thumping music blaring into my ears told me what this city lacked in terms of natural needs of a human being. I did not recognize it then, but the city was finally revealing itself to me.

 

As I drove down the same streets the next day, the views were no longer alien to me. I recognized the phallus in the daytime, marking its presence across the skyline giving the city recognition. The dome standing on lush green parks laid out was no longer a stranger, but a monument to be proud of. And every cultural disparity the city failed me in was another opportunity to explore and look for what must be possible in this museum of civilization. Layer by layer, the city bared its secrets slowly embracing me into itself.

 

I realized it’s never the buildings, the roads, or the architecture we identify ourselves with, no matter how extraordinary they might be. It’s the stories we associate with them. It’s the friendship that they have enabled us to share. Those shared stories are the fuel of memory. And any city is merely bricks and mortar lest they be robbed of the stories we share with them. We never return to the buildings. We return to the people we shared them with. The rooftops, the lights, the waves, and the wind. Are nothing but memories we have shared. That’s what makes the skyline of incomplete buildings of Mumbai more close to my heart than the towering heights of New York. And that’s what makes a dead city with no hope of redemption beautiful to the people who happen to walk across it on a moonless night with a newfound friend.

Archer

Arched back, steady hands, eyes that never waver

Stands upright as a tree he does, yet graceful like a flower

His eyes stay focused on the singular aim, watching everything that transpires

A drop of sweat itches his brow, his fingers feel him perspire

 

He stretches the string taut feeling terse pulls and strains

He stretches it more with all his strength unmoved by the pain

Pain that emanates from fingertips and stings his collar

And brings the edge right to unmoving eyes fixated on the aim

 

‘The string may snap,’ he knows, anytime in his hands

Leaving him bruises, underserved and crass

Yet he cannot but stretch it the best he can

For he trusts the string, and the tying hands

 

He knows his bow will not disappoint him

And his intents the arrow will obey

The only unruly part being the string,

Subdued by nothing, apart from faith

 

He trusts the bow, the arrow, and the string

And knows they believe in him in every way they can

Yet he cannot help but wonder

The day when the contraption may strain his hand

 

Some day before he realizes, the string will grow too strong for him

Or rather, he will grow too weak for it

And it shall snap uncontrollably retracting against him

Touching every fiber of his being

 

His eyes will feel the first sting,

But his hands will be the first to react

Followed by a numbness in his brain

A scar on his soul that another dear one has snapped

 

The string, would suffer gravely for this offence

It will lose all its strength

Its essence being stripped away from in an instant

Only to be discarded and forgotten, as it was never of any consequence

 

He knows that it’s the eventual fate of every string

And has scars to tell the tale

Yet the only way he knows is to believe

That there’s one more shot within his range

 

And so he stands tall, unmoving unafraid

Aware of all the pitfalls, but uncaring all the same

The mark is all that is, the shot is all that matters

For as long as it lasts, he and the string are one and the same

 

Vishal Gupta

31 Jan 2022