Unsolved Mysteries

The mind of the poet is a minefield - of the creative kind. There are wannabe poets who want to write (if you browse through the archives of this blog, you would surely know one :D). And then, there are poets who came down straight from the endlessness of the sky, wrapped in gloss and tied with a red ribbon. I do not want to name any of them - the list will be unending even with my limited exposure. Each time I discover a new one in that class, I just feel too much contented and happy. For the fact that such people exist, whose minds sparkle with thoughts off the beaten track. We can never get into what goes on inside, but are still fortunate to marvel at what approximates on paper. You know such a person through simple lines put in such a way that eludes all sort of commonplace connections - for a poem is not just rhyming lines. Just imagining myself trying to write something depicting a similar emotion; and all I am left with is an amazement that has no answer, as to what can make a mind think like that.

A rambling post after a long hiatus - but I just had to write this short note after I heard Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan singing:

Teri ummeed tera intezar jab se hai
Na shab ko din se shikayat, na din ko shab se hai