Of ardent words and musing!

It is the first day of the year. The first day of yet another journey around the Sun. 
The whole of life is a travel, isn't it? 
Our travel around the sun, accompanied by a plethora of creatures, moments, goals and all that we could come with. 
Rambling already? 
Yes, I need to travel, yet again. However, let's get back to where I intended to take you. :)

Sabr(सब्र)  has been haunting me for quite sometime now. 
Not the duration in waiting for something, but, the word in itself. The word that appears to have such subtle grace and yet strikingly vigorous. It stirs what was forgotten, buried and evaporated. It stirs poetic pain and portrays how alluring comfortable it is. It leaves you in a longing to embrace it.  

As though, it knew all that happened
As though, it knows all that will happen
As though, it assures you to go on
As though, it were the solution
Sabr. 

What were the people who invented languages thinking of? What led to these ever-so untranslatable words? What was literature before it existed? What is the source of all this? What did sabr mean to the one who invented it? What did he/she feel when he/she uttered it for the first time? Did they know, millions of years later, there would be somebody being so intrigued by it? Did they know it back then, and have a hearty laughter? How beautifully torturous can a word get? How many answers can it hide? Why does it not have a equally intense replacement? 

As I question and glance at the word, yet again, it smiles back at me and says, "Sabr.." 

Probably they knew. Probably they knew this would happen. Probably, they gave their own sweet time to Sabr and let it haunt me with its flair. Let it haunt me so much that I had to put it into words. So much that, it smiles at me, at how a person who loves mystery and an element of surprise is left with a catalog of questions. 

The January wind elapses through the window, tickling the wind chime; yielding a calm music. The evening sun kisses the tree trunk, ornamenting the green of the leaves. The sky calls out, to let me narrate yet another story. And yet,


Sabr.. 
Sabr wins the day hands down. 
Effortlessly craving to be loved vehemently. 


©Deekshita Srinivas
  1st January 2016.