दुःखाची चिंधी

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 दुःखाची चिंधी धाग्यांनी नव्हे तर क्षणांच्या नीरवता, आठवणी, विरह आणि विराणतेच्या असह्य दुखण्यातून कातलेल्या अदृश्य सूक्ष्म तंतूंनी विणलेली असते. ती चिंधी अंगावर दुसऱ्या कातडीसारखी लोंबते, जणू पहाटेसारखी मुलायम तर कधी मध्यरात्री सारखी घुटमळणारी. 


ती अबोल शब्दांची बनलेली असते अन् मनात उरलेल्या पण धडात नसणाऱ्यांच्या आक्रोशांनी विणलेली असते. ती फाटत नाही, ती झिजत जाते. 


सावकाश.

हळुवार.

निर्दयीपणे.


ती प्रत्येक हुंदका शोषते जो आतल्या आत विरघळून जातो जेव्हा आपण धावत्या जगाकडं पाहून बनावट हसतो. का तर, हे जग शोकासाठी थांबत नाही. 


आपण दुःखाची चिंधी घालत नाही. 

आपण ती बनत जातो. 

अन् जरी ती उसवत चाललेली वाटली, तरी ती फाटत नाही. 


- सौरपद सौमित्र

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