When Poetry Heals

Six years! I can hardly believe it’s been six years since that fateful day. The doctor’s face is a blur. I just remember he had a beard. The clock was huge with a yellow and gold rim; the numbers large and the time was two forty a.m.. Of course that was not the time on the death certificate. But that was the time I knew my husband had gone. And as if it was because I could not cry, the heavens did it for me. It just poured. Suddenly and swiftly.

Healing after the death of a loved one is difficult and at times it seems almost impossible. Sometimes it seems that for every step you take forward, you slide two steps backward. There are days when you don’t want to live at all. You wish you were dead too. And then suddenly one day, you forget to be sad for a few minutes. Maybe you smile at that little baby who is looking at you. Or you just enjoy the wind on your face. And then you actually get up one morning in a good mood, ready to face the day. It doesn’t matter that the next whole week you are miserable. You have these sporadic days of happiness thrown in among the misery. And before you know it you start picking up the threads of your life again.

And sometimes, there are angels to help you heal: Family, friends; in  unexpected ways.  I have found healing in the poetry of my friends and there is one poem that I must share with you. This is a poem written by my dear friend, Jayesh Ramaiya. He and his wife Kalpana write absolutely awesome poems.  This particular one is my favourite and for some reason when I read it today, it soothed my soul .

कारवाँ के साथ कुछ गुब्बारे जुड़ जाते है

बदलती हर राह पर वे साथ ही मूड जाते है

खुश मिजाज है वे अपनी ही धून में चलते है

गांठ मत ढीली करना वह शोख कंही उड़ जाते है
कारवाँ के साथ कुछ गुब्बारे जुड़ जाते है

 

यादों के खंजर सीने में चुभते है

साथ बिताये हुवे पल आँसुओंमे भीगते है

जहाँ जा रहें है वे साथ ले जाते नहीं

चाहे जितना बुलाओ लौटकर आते नहीं
कारवाँ के साथ कुछ गुब्बारे जुड़ जाते है

 

अगले पड़ाव पर नये गुब्बारे मिल जायेंगे

फिर नये नये रंग हम सबको लुभायेंगे

जुड़ जायेगी नये मोतियों की लड़ियाँ

फिर नये शायराना गीत हम गाते है
कारवाँ के साथ कुछ गुब्बारे जुड़ जाते है

 

अब साथ रहेने की कसमें जाग जाती है

क्षितिज में एक तसबीर उभर आती है

फिर दूर कोई गुब्बारा नज़र आता है

और नये रास्ते हमे बुलाते है
कारवाँ के साथ कुछ गुब्बारे जुड़ जाते है

– जयकल्प –

 

 

Swachh Bharat? Swachh Nothing #2

compound

The Secrets In The Compound

Be careful when you walk in our compound
There’s no telling what you will find.
You will see so many things
You’ll find secrets of every kind

As I walk my dog around,
Without having snooped,
I know what my neighbours have been up to.
I know someone’s baby has pooped!

It’s all there in the open.
Someone had sex last night.
Someone didn’t sleep coz the mosquito bat was broken.
And someone didn’t like that pair of  lycra tights.

I warn my dog as I walk her around,
“Don’t sniff that condom you might get aids;
And that diaper will give you diarrhoea;
The broken mosquito bat is not a toy,
In fact you might get malaria.”

So be careful when you walk in our compound,
There’s no telling what you will find.
You will see so many things.
You’ll find secrets of every kind.

P.S. If you have missed the first post in this series, you will find it here: http://sunitasaldhana.com/life/swachh-bharat-swachh-nothing

Maya Angelou

This year is a very special year for me. I call it  “my year of awesomeness”  and one of the things that I have done to make it really awesome, is to surround myself with things and people that really mean something to me and rid my life of things that take away from my happiness. So it was no wonder that one of the books that got added to my library was “The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou.”maya angelou

I remember the first time I came across a poem of hers, “And still I rise” I just sat transfixed, taking in the poem. While reading it, the poem became me and I became the poem. I became a die hard fan ever since.

I read about all the talks she was invited to, I read about how famous she was. I read about the people who admired her.

And then I read her poems.

And her poems took me to the person she was. I came to know her, to love her, to cry with her, to hope with her, to feel her strength in me.

Through her poems I saw the 7 year old child, who was abused and who blamed herself for the death of the man who abused her; who punished herself by losing her voice. I saw the woman she grew up to be, strong, even a bit defiant, but not scared to be totally herself as she found her voice back through her poems and her writings. The day she died, I cried, as if I had lost a friend,a very close friend. I was devastated that I would never hear her through her poems again.

Today as I read her, I realize I do not want the fame and admiration she had. What I want is that when someone is sitting alone and quietly reading what I have written, my poem, my writing should enter their heart and soul and help them to heal the way Maya Angelou’s poems helped me.

You can get the book for your self through my affiliate link here.

 

 

Happy Reading!

NaPoWriMo – Day 14 Yellow Roses

roses-980731_1280

Yellow Roses

Don’t give me red roses,

They frighten me.

I don’t want declarations of undying love

And deep passion.

So please don’t give me red roses.

Their darkness scares me!

I’d much rather have yellow roses,

That talk of sunlight,

And friendship,

And all that’s light and bright.

So if you have to give me roses,

Bring me the sunshine,

And not the darkness.