An Ode to ‘Ijaazat’: The Final Approval

Note: My poetic tribute to the haunting, melancholic, yet the beautifully touching saga of love gone awry in the hands of destiny, the irresistibly deep and unforgettable chemistry between Mahinder, Maaya and Sudha in Gulzar’s timeless love saga ‘Ijaazat’, based on the Bengali story ‘Jatugriha’, by Subodh Ghosh.  The film, unforgettable till today for the tenderly crafted lyrics of Gulzar Saab composed with finesse by the phenomenal R.D. Burman,  followed the story of couple who are separated and who accidentally meet in a small waiting room of a railway station and discover some truths about their lives without each other.

ijaazat_movie

 

Like weary travelers, lost in the waxy orbit of time

We lose our shores, and then, keep coming back

To where our stories began, the Ground Zero

Where you slouched against my caramel skin,

Lost in the deep, blinding maze of a past, passionate, drunk

With the lyrics and heartbeats of Maaya, the wandering girl,

Her eyelashes, soaked with the salt and oil

of the forbidden randomness of your wants.

“Ek akeli chhatri mein jab aandhe aandhe bheeg rahe they

Aadhey sookhey aandhey gile, sookha to main le aayee thi…”

The raindrops pelting on the window where she stood,

Forlorn, dreamy still, asking you to return the cloudbursts

Of your memories in spurts, were mine too, the clouds which I stared at

Like forbidden turrets of your leftover dreams overlooking

Our half-baked love songs, yawning with an emptiness

As I had rinsed off their remnants from our rooms, our plates,

Our cups and dishes, our breaths, entwined, yet not whole.

I did look for you and long to hear the syrupy strains

Of those lovelorn lyrics, which you had once hummed to me.

I did look in the hand-delivered letters of the postman

For the silhouettes of those sullied memories and burnt out poems

Which never reached me, as I settled down, colder, less rippling

And more permissive, in a new mooring.

Forgive me, today, as I dried off your wet hairs, drenched in

Our once-familiar raindrops in an unfamiliar station,

Waking up to dig in the dust of our forgotten, forsaken days

Waking up to your frostbitten face, bursting wide, crooning

In the smoked mirror of this tiny, clumsy waiting room.

Forgive me, like Maaya, the sad, wandering girl who gagged herself

And was washed away in the crossroads of your tyrannical trails,

The sky, drunk, sunken, taking in both our salty waters, and crackling.

Forgive me, today, as I seek your approval, for one last time

To drive off to my moorings now, as you will drive off to your own,

The smudged lines of our story, hanging loose, askance,

In this Ground Zero where we had stumbled upon, and burnt.

 

All Rights Reserved. Lopa Banerjee. February 17, 2017

 

Watch the full movie here:

An Ode to Silsila: The Star-Crossed Lovers’ Tale

Note: My poetic tribute to the passionate, all-consuming love between the two star-crossed lovers in Yash Chopra’s blockbuster romance Silsila, which had put the silver screen on fire in the early 1980’s.

silsila-1

The poster of ‘Silsila’, released by Yash Raj Films in 1981.

Betwixt the twists and turns of life’s uncertain miles

The pastures of love had tempted with a painterly vision.

‘Love’, the oft-committed, dazzling sin testifying in its fullness,

‘Love’, the beguiling light, irresistible, blinding,

One that soon engulfs in its maddening darkness.

 

The scent of their silken touch, the frantic movements of pleasure

In their entwined bodies, unraveling, squirting, unabashed,

Out of their neatly packed matrimonial boxes, to whisper

The esoteric lyrics of a seductive, silken reunion that lingers,

Tears to shreds, burns to ashes the salt and pepper of domestic bliss.

A pair of star-crossed lovers, seeking a pound of solace in

The lyrical ferocity of their swan songs.

 

The mad refrain of the desperate artist lover,

Sucking the moonbeam of her jingling bangles,

Nibbling on the wafting fragrance of his paramour’s body,

A scorching story of the boundless seduction of old flames

While estranging domestic ties, and the sad, silent tears

Of a demure, resilient bride, waiting to reclaim him,

Sowing his seed of a once vowed proximity.

 

And she, on her turn, carrying those lovelorn songs still

In her bone and sinew and blood, pan-seared in the surging lust

And love, melting, like the old, familiar salt in his luscious wants.

Her other man, bonded in vows of a holy matrimony waited,

For he too knew, the smell of her lover would wane away

From her chiffon drape, in the inevitable downhill climb,

The destiny of this perfume-soaked, transient saga of love.

 

‘Love’, the salt that perhaps had stung in their lips still

Would strive to settle in its familiar homely mooring,

From where there would be no leading astray, after all.

 

Lopa Banerjee.  February 8, 2017