Three members of a family and their silences.
Every day from break of dawn
Till dusk takes over soothingly
I work, like he and she,
Pots and pots to fill;
Loud gush, the only sound
To fill the screaming silence.
At other times, not a drop
No relief, except that hopeful drop
Clinging to the tap
Like the heavy thoughts
Clouding the two bland faces
The thoughts that never become words.
The drop that never falls
And then the pots stay dry
All that remains: a screaming silence.
________________
Aches and pains every day
The hot sun on my back
Streams of sweat flowing freely
More freely than water from the tap.
Evenings bring relief
Lovely coffee and a tired smile
Drooping shoulders, a crumpled sari
Tangled hair in stringy mess
Not a word.
Eyes can speak too, if they wish.
They don't. I can speak too.
I feel, I know, I understand.
But I can't speak. I can only bark.
Is there time to understand?
_____________________
Bent over the stove
Kerosene and grime,
The broomstick, the mop,
The chopping board and the knife
Stooping by the well,
Under the weight of water pots,
The sizzling pan over the fire,
The serving spoon and the waiting plate,
Mounds of clothes waiting for wash,
Scraping vegetables, scaling fish,
Putting baby to sleep,
Serving the old, the weak, the sick
Where is the time to stand up straight
To lift one's eyes and see
Face to face.
Those helpless eyes
Yearning mad for words.
But I have none.
I stoop over the stove again.
A warm coffee is all I have to give.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Bitter times
A poem written at a workshop when my father was in ICU after a heart attack, one in a series of devastating diseases that bound him to a chair and the bed, and wiped the smile from his face forever.
Racking and ravaging,
Invading insidiously,
Your brutal gleam,
Searing our tenderest part;
O heart-wrenching, body-wrecking
malignant madness called Disease,
Is there any nook of the world
Untouched by you?
Racking and ravaging,
Invading insidiously,
Your brutal gleam,
Searing our tenderest part;
O heart-wrenching, body-wrecking
malignant madness called Disease,
Is there any nook of the world
Untouched by you?
Suprabatham
Kausalya Supraja Ramapoorva...
The familiar strains in M.S.'s voice.
The cassette is old, squeaky
But paati has not had enough of it.
As a child she had sung it,
Every morning, fresh as a lark.
A woman, she chanted it
Daily: a duty to her family,
Its welfare at heart.
Now she cannot sing, nor chant.
Her voice, a shaky whisper,
Her teeth, all gone,
Memory but a haze.
But habits die hard.
And so the squeaky cassette
Never mind the groans of her sleeping grandson,
The grumbling of her son,
The glares of her daughter-in-law
The sound barrier is shattered.
The old lady has her way
And M.S. sings on...Kausalya Supraja...
The familiar strains in M.S.'s voice.
The cassette is old, squeaky
But paati has not had enough of it.
As a child she had sung it,
Every morning, fresh as a lark.
A woman, she chanted it
Daily: a duty to her family,
Its welfare at heart.
Now she cannot sing, nor chant.
Her voice, a shaky whisper,
Her teeth, all gone,
Memory but a haze.
But habits die hard.
And so the squeaky cassette
Never mind the groans of her sleeping grandson,
The grumbling of her son,
The glares of her daughter-in-law
The sound barrier is shattered.
The old lady has her way
And M.S. sings on...Kausalya Supraja...
Elegy to a dear one
Woe is the day
Such an inauspicious day
Whose was the evil eye
That cast an envious glance
On my dearest, my beloved
Whose the hate-filled heart
That mumbled the fearful curse
That snatched from me
My most precious
The apple of eye, the pride of my house
The darling of my family
My pyrex pudding bowl!
Many a pudding had it seen
Custards, jellies, mousses
Many a dinner had it graced with its sparkling presence.
Admiring glances had it known
And paens of praise too
As glittering it lay on the table
Adding luster to dessert.
I bought it at a jumble sale
At the United States,
Where I was visiting my sister
Being treated for skin cancer.
I bought it second-hand
It cost me half a dollar
It was chipped at the bottom
But I did not mind
For the fault never showed.
And it was a wise investment
And never mind the chip
My guests never guessed.
I remember the first time
I brought it to my table
Twenty electrified eyes
Followed me all the way;
I thought it was the mocha bombe
Luscious as can be
That lay tempting in the bowl
(and why not? For the sherry
That went into it was genuine English –
My friend gifted it only last week)
But it was not the mocha
Nor the sherry that drew attention
It was the pudding bowl
Straight from the United States
Much sherry has flowed into corpulent bellies since then.
Many cakes have been cut,
Little did I dream
Such a day would come
Such an end was at hand
It was that dratted blob of butter
That plopped on the floor
As I brought in the damned doughnuts
I never did like them anyway.
When it was the souffle’s turn
That dratted blob betrayed me
I slipped,
The bowl flew from my hand
The soufflé bounced several times
Never mind the soufflé
What a crash was there, my friends
My darling fell
In a shower of sparkling slivers
Taking with it my hopes and dreams
I fainted: all was lost.
Such an inauspicious day
Whose was the evil eye
That cast an envious glance
On my dearest, my beloved
Whose the hate-filled heart
That mumbled the fearful curse
That snatched from me
My most precious
The apple of eye, the pride of my house
The darling of my family
My pyrex pudding bowl!
Many a pudding had it seen
Custards, jellies, mousses
Many a dinner had it graced with its sparkling presence.
Admiring glances had it known
And paens of praise too
As glittering it lay on the table
Adding luster to dessert.
I bought it at a jumble sale
At the United States,
Where I was visiting my sister
Being treated for skin cancer.
I bought it second-hand
It cost me half a dollar
It was chipped at the bottom
But I did not mind
For the fault never showed.
And it was a wise investment
And never mind the chip
My guests never guessed.
I remember the first time
I brought it to my table
Twenty electrified eyes
Followed me all the way;
I thought it was the mocha bombe
Luscious as can be
That lay tempting in the bowl
(and why not? For the sherry
That went into it was genuine English –
My friend gifted it only last week)
But it was not the mocha
Nor the sherry that drew attention
It was the pudding bowl
Straight from the United States
Much sherry has flowed into corpulent bellies since then.
Many cakes have been cut,
Little did I dream
Such a day would come
Such an end was at hand
It was that dratted blob of butter
That plopped on the floor
As I brought in the damned doughnuts
I never did like them anyway.
When it was the souffle’s turn
That dratted blob betrayed me
I slipped,
The bowl flew from my hand
The soufflé bounced several times
Never mind the soufflé
What a crash was there, my friends
My darling fell
In a shower of sparkling slivers
Taking with it my hopes and dreams
I fainted: all was lost.
Experience
On a bluetiful day
In a greengeous way
A redmendous blossom
Took my breath away!
In the silenvellous peace
Among the whisplendid trees
A melodiant trill
Swept me off my feet!
In the earthcellent air
From some fraglliant flower
Wafts a scent-illating breath –
A balmazing treasure!
Exquisweet nectar
Flavorious water
Jucillious berries
A feastfill of pleasure!
On a snowpendous peak
In a tickleful creek
The softicoius touch
Makes a warmazing treat!
Only five ways to feel,
To enjoy this wealth?
For a full life, I cry
Five hundred senses need I!
In a greengeous way
A redmendous blossom
Took my breath away!
In the silenvellous peace
Among the whisplendid trees
A melodiant trill
Swept me off my feet!
In the earthcellent air
From some fraglliant flower
Wafts a scent-illating breath –
A balmazing treasure!
Exquisweet nectar
Flavorious water
Jucillious berries
A feastfill of pleasure!
On a snowpendous peak
In a tickleful creek
The softicoius touch
Makes a warmazing treat!
Only five ways to feel,
To enjoy this wealth?
For a full life, I cry
Five hundred senses need I!
Fleeting thoughts
O to lose it all
The name, the face
The figure, the form
And the excess baggage:
The tags that cling
And the fame they bring;
To blend into space
To merge and fuse
And become one with the ether
Colorless, formless
Impossible to tag
No endless details
No substance, nor bulk.
O to become
The whoosh of the wind
The wag of a tail
The grin on the face
The tang of the lime
The texture of grime
The rustle of leaves
The greenness of grass
The meow of a cat
The whiteness of milk
The gurgle of water
The fragrance of the earth
The froth of the wave
The flicker of a wick
The sparkle of diamond
The glint of gold
The batting of an eyelid
The pursing of a lip
The warmth of the sun
The feeling of fun
To be there and not there
Nowhere and anywhere
To be sought and found
To be found and lost
Known and unknown
Loved and unloved
Nothing and everything
A vision, a whiff
A sound, a smell
A feeling indescribable
A something unknowable
No self, no other
No beginning, nor end
Just a being in everything
In the here and now.
The name, the face
The figure, the form
And the excess baggage:
The tags that cling
And the fame they bring;
To blend into space
To merge and fuse
And become one with the ether
Colorless, formless
Impossible to tag
No endless details
No substance, nor bulk.
O to become
The whoosh of the wind
The wag of a tail
The grin on the face
The tang of the lime
The texture of grime
The rustle of leaves
The greenness of grass
The meow of a cat
The whiteness of milk
The gurgle of water
The fragrance of the earth
The froth of the wave
The flicker of a wick
The sparkle of diamond
The glint of gold
The batting of an eyelid
The pursing of a lip
The warmth of the sun
The feeling of fun
To be there and not there
Nowhere and anywhere
To be sought and found
To be found and lost
Known and unknown
Loved and unloved
Nothing and everything
A vision, a whiff
A sound, a smell
A feeling indescribable
A something unknowable
No self, no other
No beginning, nor end
Just a being in everything
In the here and now.
She and I
I see her,
I know her
Walking, talking,
Feeling her feelings
Thinking her thoughts
Can she see me
Like I see her?
She is lost, I find her
She stumbles, I fall to the ground
I get up, she is back on track
And then all is dark
She fades away
I drift off
Not knowing where
Where is she
Where am I
Who am I
And who is she
I wake up
And she is no more.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)