‘Saneyeeka ‘ is a rare oriya word which means a flute!
[SA as in Sardine, NE as in Nail, YEE as in Yippie and KA as in Car]
P.S HEAR THE MUSIC AS YOU READ.
‘the flute’ is like a plaintive, purified human voice, calling out — an expression of longing. The flute is also hollow, empty, and it is precisely because of this emptiness that its sound is so pure.
i don’t know how i am going to manage my FF parineeta and this ss. my main focus shall be parineeta. i wrote this when i was in a writer’s block of the ff. i may go slow with this ss. please bear with me.
just hoping that you’d like this. *fingers crossed*
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
The water droplets danced around his feet as he ran….across the large fields…trying to reach his dadima’s haveli as fast as possible. He was only 7 years old…and it was his summer vacations. He had come to his favorite place—Hoshiyarpur, to spend his time with dadima and dadaji. He had been to a friend’s place to play but suddenly the sky was overcast with dark clouds and in no time it was pouring! It was getting dark…and he wanted to get back to his dadima as fast as possible. He ran across the fields..Through the boughs…when he heard a faint chunnn…chunnn…chunn…chunnn….!
He stopped…he didn’t want to stop…but the sound was sooo melodious…rhythmic…and his curiosity won over him. He looked up at the sky and then ran towards the sound. He halted in front of an old broken gazebo… it belonged to some rich zamindars long time back, as he’d hear stories…its roof was gone…pillars were broken…but it looked beautiful in that also. he wiped the water from his face…and it was the first time he saw her! She wore a cute yellow salwar kameez and her dupatta was tied across her waist…and she twirled!
(imagine the place something like this..broken and without roof)
He blinked a couple of times…and saw the pair of ghungroos she was wearing…and it was the sound of this pair that brought him here. She was little girl…hardly 5-6 years old… and she danced…gracefully, twirling around and round. He heard her giggle…god knows for what… but he loved that so much! He stood there like that, watching her…he had never seen her around.. .who was she?
A mild thunder broke his concentration and reality struck!! He screamed at the top of his voice, “Are you mad?”
He wondered who the stupid was to dance like a maniac in such heavy rains…but she’d hear none. He shook his head and ran away!!
She danced and danced and danced…feeling the cold droplets over her tiny palms..and she never realized someone was watching her. When she was contended, she picked her dupatta which had fallen off…and ran away.
He saw her again…dancing…at the same place…she had grown a little taller.. and so had he! After that day, he had gone to that very place again…waited for her too…at the same time.. he had gone there day after day during his entire holiday… but he never saw her again! And today, he was again back for his holidays and the first thing he did was to go to that old gazebo. He had silently prayed to god to see her again…he was 15 now. Dadima had moved to Delhi with him after dadaji’s death. So no one basically lived in hoshiyarpur…so there was no point in visiting the place either. When he had lost all hopes of seeing her again, dadima’s wish to see her old house had brought him back. It wasn’t raining today…but yes…she was there…dancing away. He noticed she was holding something long, sleek and shiny in her hands. He hid himself behind a tree and watched her swirl around.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace,
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
He had come the next day again..at the same place..same time.. and this time she was with her friends. He looked around and realized the girls were taking dance lessons there.. a middle aged lady seemed to be their teacher. He couldn’t see her face properly. She was always surrounded by her friends..and yet she again had that long ‘stick’ in her hands. Her friends tried to snatch it away from her… but she wouldn’t give it to anyone. he smiled.. seeing her get so possessive about that stupid stick.
The next time he saw her was the day he had visited hoshiyarpur for the last time. he didn’t know why but all these years he could never forget her..her dance..and her cute laughter. Time passed..but her memories remained with him. He never remembered her face..neither did he know her name..he wasn’t even aware if she lived in hoshiyarpur or not. He tried asking dadima about her..but she really couldn’t understand what he meant.
He felt very nostalgic..it was probably his last day in India. He was going abroad for higher studies. She sat on the floor, polishing that stick..he rolled his eyes! She had never changed..she was still possessive abut that thing…how stupid!!!! His cell buzzed..he had to leave. He had to catch his flight from Delhi. So they had to get back. Before leaving he turned back to look at her once again… hoping to at least see her once more properly..when he heard one of her friends call, “Geet….lets go….come on…”
“aayi………….”, she shouted and ran away.
He stood there rooted for a while..so her name was Geet…and her voice so sweet!! He closed his eyes as the flight took off… her name was Geet..and probably he wasn’t going to see her again..ever!
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
am nervous now!!!!
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