I stood on the beach mesmerized by this cute little sailing boat. A blue piece of flotsam defying the blue enormity of the sea. I think I heard Tagore speak out to me in his immortal poem Sonar Tori (The Golden Boat):
Where are you headed, my dear, to what distant lands
Moor your vessel for just a while please here on these sands.
The boatmen did not hear what I heard. The waves rocked the boat further and further away. The sun was about to set and the beach was a lovely gold. As gold as the hair of the mermaids. The sea too was as blue as the eyes of the mermaids that never sang to me. I heard instead Bellafonte whispering:
Down the way where the nights are gay
And the sun shines daily on the mountain top
I took a trip on a sailing ship and when I reached Jamaica I made a stop.
But I am sad to say, I am on my way
I won’t be back for many a day
My heart is down an’ my head is turnin’ around
I had to leave a little girl in Kingstontown.
I sighed and looked up at the mellow sky. No little girl waved back at me. She never will. She never was there to wave. But I am sad to say that I am on my way.
I have searched for her since the beginning of time. And then I departed on a small dinghy. Too small to accomplish so impossible a mission.
I grew old and eventually died. Yet I never found her.
If you happen to locate her someday, somewhere, do convey to her the story of my unrequited love. Do let her know that I will keep on waiting for the remainder of eternity too.
A haiku is in order before I pack up my friends.
On the mighty sea
Desperately cling to waves
Empty, futile dreams
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