Picking up the pieces

There are many reasons why we may like a certain poem a lot.

Perhaps it tells our own story. Perhaps it makes us wish we had written it instead. Perhaps it gives us hope. Perhaps it inspires us. Perhaps it speaks to us.

And sometimes, if we're lucky enough, we find that one poem that puts all these reasons together. The ultimate poem. The most beautiful. The most meaningful. The most memorable. That one poem that stays with us forever. That one poem that we remember all our lives.

Years and years ago, perhaps 15 years ago, my mother used to read this tiny Reader's Digest-sized Hindi magazine called 'Sarita'. I used to read it too, mainly to help my Hindi. I concentrated only on the Bollywood section (yeah yeah, I started young!) but one day something caught my eye. The magazine had a little section that featured poems sent in by amateur poets.

And that's where I spotted the simplest yet the most beautiful poem I'd ever read.

Today for some reason, the poem came back to me.

I don't remember the poet's name but I think this is how it went:

Main nirantar
toot toot kar
phir phir judne wali
woh chattaan hoon...
jo jitni baar toot-ti hai
judne se pehle
utni hi baar
apne bheetar
kuchh naya samet leti hai...
Tum mujhe baar baar todte ho
aur main phir phir judti hoon...

And here's my sad attempt to translate it for the non-Hindi-speaking readers. Compared to the original, this sucks bigtime, but it's the best I can do.

I'm that rock
the one that breaks again and again
and then puts itself together
every time it breaks...
and each time
before putting itself together
it takes in something new...
You break me again and again
and I put myself together
again and again...