The Song of the Sea

Stood he resolute, strong - amidst the swaying palm,
    Arms outstretched, awaiting my fierce rush,
My destiny, my love - ever unquestioning, ever calm.

Longing so deep, yet tranquil in his crush,
    Filled I his core - safe, nestled in his arm,
His parting touch, lingering in the heavenly crimson blush.

And now stands he, in icy glare and of stony heart,
    Love lost, trust shattered, in the tumult of time,
Hesitation, not gay abandon, as we drift apart.

Clutched I the wet sands, O' dreadful loss I pine,
    Unknowing, why mercilessly the bonds does he dispart,
A vain search, for days of yore and memories divine.

Teary vision, fettered reason - it did never occur,
He remained unmoved, my tides washed me afar.

Chinmoy Bhattacharjee
27th June, 2014
New Delhi, India.

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What if the sea was human? What if the rugged imposing cliff on the coastline was human too? What if they were lovers, enamoured so with each other, that nothing else mattered?

It is at high tide, when the setting sun imparted a reddish hue across the firmament that the lovers got to meet. Her longing was fierce, she could hardly breathe. And as she looked up, along the southern coast beside the palm grove, she saw him. Awaiting her, arms outstretched, calling out to her – to engulf her in his bosom. Never had she met anyone so calm, ever unflustered. The hint of the infectious smile never left his lips. The twinkle in his eyes spoke a million things. She could no longer hold back. With a roar, she charged towards him. His crushing embrace was her destiny, her final desire.

And when she finally crashed into him, when he lifted her into his arms and hugged her with all his might, could she finally breathe again. Her eyes closed, her head resting on his shoulders – she finally felt at peace again. The cacophony of the roar subsided – and tranquillity returned. His patience lent credence to her incoherence. She could smell the sweet fragrance again. She could feel the winds teasing her locks again. As the water fills every creek and crevasse of the coastal rocks, so did she bond with him. Arms entwined, fused in body and spirit – theirs was an union like none other. Few words were exchanged – there was need for none. For they spoke through their hearts. And when the time to depart came, she had to tear herself off him. Loathe to let go, their fingers touched in gentle caress. The wetness of their passion lingered in the pebbles of the coast, long after she had returned.

And what of the morning, at low tide? She could no longer reach him. His undying love, so lucidly professed, seemed to have evaporated under the gaudy harsh sun. Dejected, despondent – she looked hard at him. And with searing pain, she realized that he had changed forever. The affectionate glances were now cold, icy stares. His beating heart now was an unfeeling piece of rock – unable to love, undeserving to be loved. His rejection broke her spirit. Where earlier, carefree and spontaneous, she rushed into his arms, doubts and hesitation crept in. As she drifted further and further away, the realization dawned that she probably could never love him again.

This loss of love broke her heart. Inconsolable, distraught – she grieved for her lost love. In vain did she clutch at the wet sands – hoping that she could claw back, praying that she could stem the relentless pull that took her away. And that he stood unmoved, unfeeling – cut deep into her. Never realizing why he changed so – why the perfection of their union he now tore asunder – she lapsed into reminiscences of pleasant memories of the past. A futile act – for love once lost, can never really recover.

Alas, her tears clouded her vision. Her grief shackled her ability to reason. Writhing in anguish, the sea never did realize that it was her tides that had pulled her away from her love. He remained the way he always was – unmoved, composed, ever unquestioning, ever calm.

EPILOGUE

Nature speaks to us in many ways, if we care to listen. In the past, while touring the Hebrides in Scotland with my family, we had stopped at a desolate beautiful coastal formation. The mesmerizing landscape under the setting sun was a sight to behold. Even more overpowering was the sight of the mighty Atlantic crashing into the massive cliffs. As I stood and watched that windy evening, nature spoke to me. It was however not the song of the sea. What I heard instead was the heart rending cry of the cliff.

This, an amateur’s first sonnet, is my humble attempt to portray the deep feelings that arose within me – that autumn evening, many years ago.