un-stringing

 

Life has been on its ride and I have been like a mad traveler been counting 

turns at times perhaps have lost track of the steps taken , thought I don't mind taking time off 

n siting with oneself on one -on-one to decide which turn to move on... I have to still figure out 

my song, I am still spending time in stringing my instrument and I have to still move on! 

In between the business of living and the need to survive whenever I find some "Me Time" I have 

managed to sneek to poetry and non other than Tagore's this poem has been there to my rescue, 

I love going through it time and again, there have been times where I have felt this has been a 

perfect expression of my pessimism- in action and ever willing attitude to except that this is not 

what I want! thought I assume the poet was very optimistic and firm about his belief and focused

on his perception of what he wants out of life but the same expression can go so well with 

some-one like me, I think and think again and then take a roll into my life and read this poem 

with a deep breadth to survive and move on! 

 Waiting

The song I came to sing 
remains unsung to this day. 
I have spent my days in stringing 
and in un-stringing my instrument. 

The time has not come true, 
the words have not been rightly set; 
only there is the agony 
of wishing in my heart..... 

I have not seen his face, 
nor have I listened to his voice; 
only I have heard his gentle footsteps 
from the road before my house..... 

But the lamp has not been lit 
and I cannot ask him into my house; 
I live in the hope of meeting with him; 
but this meeting is not yet.   

~Rabindranath Tagore