BORDER: BEYOND THE HATRED WALLS

The kerfuffle was a common seen, on the platform number three,
New Delhi railway station was like an old banyan tree.
Thousand birds each a day squeaked in diverse tones,
Up and down the platform lanes, many a child has grown.
Mr Ahmad stood in joy, at a corner; peaceful though,
His beloved wife at sixty five carried her age old glow.
Their daughter sat on a wooden bench, reading through a page,
She was mid in forty five, yet ignorant of her age.
Her daughter was a glistening lass, she was twenty two,
Her splendid aura wafted high luring crimson hue.
Amira was a carefree bird, fluttering wings of love,
Her eyes were dark as fantasy, like a turtle dove.

They waited long for the train to come, much awaited day,
Their eyes were all too eager to see, their lands on the other bay.
Grandpa! asked the little girl, what memories do you store?
Can you tell me what waits on the foreign floor?
Mr Ahmad smiled a bit, emotions wrapped his brain,
Little drops of crystal tears, dropped as a winter rain.
Dear girl, I still remember, a sweet shop in our lane,
Fifty five years ago, it still brings me pain.
May be streets have changed a lot, dressed in new attire,
But my heart still holds the flame, the flame of fervent fire.
It was my town, my Lahore, the one where I was born,
Years before I hardly knew, there will be a wall of thorns
They created walls with glaring hate, till today it stands,
The other side is their land, this side is our sands.
The year was nineteen forty two, my dad had crossed the door,
Nomadic ones in search of peace, came to the chartless shore.
From their began our new life, a new phase indeed,
A new soil to learn and grow like a departed seed.
The streets of home had changed the turns, a new brook to sail,
Your land, my land, game began, with weapons guarding the dale.

Whistles shook the cloudy thoughts; the train was walking in,
Foaming hopes with pellucid wings, painted vibrant grins.
Samjhota Express was the one that'll take them to the end,
Atari border waits with love, for its beloved friend.
They boared the train with dreams unfurled to reach a different shore,
Amira gazed through lands of leas, beyond the iron door.
The train will run all at once till the final stop,
Amid the lanes, for safety norms, there won't be pick and drops.

A glistening pair of amorous eyes, gazed at Amira deep,
She saw for once, a handsome boy, like a sweven in sleep.
His eyes were dense, filled in words and shades of vibrant hues,
An illusion of human soul, as a writer hunting muse.
He smiled a bit with amative tinge, Amira too smiled back,
She lost herself in his vibes, in those eyes too black.
Hey, I am Farhad, a guy from lands you call a foreign ground,
And what's your name? Your eyes are pretty round.
Hi, I am Amira, a girl from lands you call a land of foes,
Final year in History hons, though I crave for a rose.
Farhad smiled in a lusty wink, his nerves had felt the rush,
He saw too close those crimson lips, grinned in sudden blush.
In no time, this stranger guy made himself too known,
A silent breeze too kissed her cheeks, she was no more alone.
Mr Ahmad spoke a lot, beads of childhood tales,
Farhad, like a decent guy swum through painted vales.

The night was dark; the noise of wheels came to sharp in fits,
In sleepy eyes Amira sneaked through broken window slits.
She got up quick and walked a while to reach the iron door,
Air was cold, the winter night kissed her like a whore.
Her psychic mind in midst of winds saw a shadow behind,
She turned around to see a face, enticing storms in mind.
Farhad, with his enchanting eyes, gazed too deep in her,
They gleamed in lust or love may be, like a pair of stars.
Amira, felt too numb a glow, she held his hands too firm,
She felt him yet more tranquil soul, she felt him yet more warm.
Her carmine lips in a helpless pull, kissed his crested face,
She felt a gust of winter wind and an aroma sprinkling grace.

The crimson sun with ravishing rays, proclaimed morn again,
Her sultry face in broad daylight, gazed through the window pane.
The galloping train with all its wheels reached the final land,
Beyond which the greenish flag has held their part of sand.
With counted set of bulky luggage, they walked down the train,
Farhad held the trembling arms of Mr Ahmad again.
He held him safe down the stairs and made him sit with ease,
His face had glimpse of ardent hues showering drops of peace.
Amira saw his prudent form and blushed inside her heart,
He is the guy I dreamt in dreams, he's best in every part.
They were all on platform four; Atari has its charm,
Amira held his hands again, she felt too safe and warm.

In couple of hours, another train would carry them to Lahore,
A dream come true for many a men, a glimpse of the golden shore.
Farhad asked in humble voice, what would you like to eat?
Mr Ahmad smiled in bliss; bring me some snacks and sweets.
Farhad went off in a blink to get him what he said,
Amira followed him with no words; her lips were still too red.
She pulled him out to a corner dark and held his hands again,
Farhad, your amorous vibes are too intense and drive my soul insane.
Her trembling lips craved again for an ardent kiss,
She closed her eyes to feel the touch, the touch of torrid bliss.

The train had come whistling high, Samjhota Express named,
The iron wheels with crackling sounds were too neatly framed.
They hunted seats like sleepy hounds and made themselves at home,
The window reams were lustrous though, perhaps made of chrome.
The night had sneaked in once again, enticing sleepy waves,
Peaceful hours to delve in dreams, inside surreal caves.
Amira wrapped in amatory whims, closed her lecherous eyes,
She dreamt herself as an angel white, flying across the skies.

Yet another scarlet morn with amber rays of sun,
Knocked with graceful smiling face, to awaken every one.
Lahore awaits with royal pride to welcome each new soul,
Diverse men had come to town with varied set of roles.
Mr Ahmad opened eyes to bask in the morning air,
The train had come to the final door breaking through hatred layers.
His sleepy eyes searched for a face, Amira was no where,
A letter kept beneath a book craved to speak its share.
Mr Ahmad took the sheet and brushed over the words,
It stabbed him back and forth too deep, like a royal sword.
"Dear Grandpa, I know not now whether I have done right,
But trust me; Farhad is a gentleman, the brightest beam of light.
I will live a happy life, with him as my mate,
Perhaps this is what He wrote for my mortal fate.
I want you all to smile in bliss; your girl is safe and sound,
She will live a gracile life on this foreign ground.
Grandpa, take your doses right on time, miss me as you do,
Give my love to granny and mom, I do love them true."
Tears flooded his wrinkled eyes and rolled down his face,
He trembled out in grave aghast, like a looser in the race.
She knows not what hath she done, she's ignorant of the plight,
Thousand miles away a land, no chance of a single sight.
At times of agony, anguished blows, she will tremble like a leaf,
No one to hold her in her pain, no one to sooth her grief.
Amira's mom had fainted twice; she had no words to say,
The trip to Lahore had brought them gloom and broke them like clay.
They stumbled through the crowded aisles to reach the waiting room,
Dense mists in the morning air brought down sullen fume.
Shall we reach the local cop? Will they help us find?
Granny asked in a timid voice, with a stormy mind.
Mr Ahmad raised his face and spoke in a crumbled voice,
This may lead to a bitter plight since it was her choice.

They heard footsteps through the aisle and saw the entrance gate,
A lady with a decent smile, walked with a silver plate.
She walked up straight to Mrs Ahmad and greeted with a smile,
Baffled faces stared at her, to sense her tranquil style.
I am the mother of Farhad Khan; I am here to say something,
Amira is in love with him and wants to be his wing.
But without your smiling faces, happiness can't walk in,
Let her fly through open sky and let her aura win.
Bless them with thy love and care, bless them a happy life,
She will be my daughter first, not just Farhad's wife.
Mr Ahmad left the seat, stood with trembling feet,
He smiled in agony, hiding tears, like a crumbled sheet.
Amira walked up, hugged him tight, and longed-for his graceful touch,
Mr Ahmad had no choice, except to stand and watch.
Amira's mom with a broken heart kissed her one last time,
Memories like a fountain flow, played on like a rhyme.
The fuming sky with sullen clouds cried in gruesome pain,
Their broken hearts could feel each drop of the winter rain.
With festooned hopes of love and lust, Amira walked away,
Into the folds of a different world, she began her crimson day.




***A STORY IN THE FORM OF A POEM***

© Dipanjan