A cup of Tea
is a fuzzy warm morning
flicking aside the blanket of night
It is a lazy afternoon
a let’s sit down
and chat for a while
It is a moment
booked just for me
to waste as I please
to brood
sit by the window
look at nothing
or hitchhike on a plume of steam
to neverland
A sample from my upcoming book of poems and short stories Under the Shade of the Banyan Tree. Out soon!
When I look at myself
through your eyes
the disasters and pitfalls
seem inconsequential
the fragrance of childhood still lingers strong
in your arms
life looks almost bearable
thank you for being the only constant in my life, Mommy dearest.
with lots of love and kisses!
Your only daughter,
Simi
Along ancient streets
and by-lanes
alien sounds ebb and flow
With familiar inflections
passions don’t simmer
they explode
Stirring smiles
on drab countenances
The air vibrates with soul
Inspired by the ancient streets of Cordoba, Toledo, Seville, Granada, in Spain. Walk on! More poems in my soon to be released book ‘Under the Shade of the Banyan Tree’.
The Self Portraits of William Utermohlen
I lie on the bed
They sit around me
These strangers with familiar voices
In the white room
I think we are waiting for something
Or someone
These strangers, they look at me
They mutter words I don’t understand
A man wearing a white coat walks in
He stands next to my bed
He speaks not to me
But to these strangers
They are talking about me I know
But what I don’t understand
Irritated, I kick off the covers
Mother! They chide me and pull them back
About the poem: This is a poem about dementia, the hallmark of the disease being loss of memory. I write about a scene I came across during my rounds in the hospital–an elderly lady in the advanced stages of dementia is lying on the bed surrounded by her caring relatives.
About the image: These are a series of self portraits that William Utermohlen, an American artist embarked on after learning he had Alzheimer’s disease.
Gateway to the Taj Mahal
A corridor in Fatehpur Sikri
Fatehpur Sikri
Balcony, Humayun’s Tomb,Delhi
Smiles
Darwaze, khidkiyaan, jharokhe, verandey
Kitni khoobsurat
Hain ye imaartein
Inhe dekho
Suno
Samjho
Socho
Jano
Kuch keh rahi hain ye
Tumse
Rough translation: (Doors, windows, details, so beautiful, are these buildings, look at them, listen, understand, think, learn, they are speaking to you)
What can I say, but I’m fascinated and inspired by buildings, and people around buildings. That’s why I’m a musafir. Kindly excuse me for my very poor Urdu and Hindi poetry skills.
Glossary:
Darwaza: Urdu for door; Khidki: Hindi for window; Jharokha: An overhanging enclosed balcony used in Rajasthani architecture; Khoobsurat: Urdu for beautiful; Imaarat: Urdu for building; Dekho: Hindi for look; Suno: Hindi for listen; Socho: Hindi for think; Jano: Hindi for learn
Yang Shaobin Untitled (Portrait #15)
Expanding inside me like a mushroom cloud
Pouring out of my mouth, my ears, my eyes, my flesh.
I scream
Let me speak
Don’t look at me
O cruel accursed Sun
Man God of the sky
Don’t mock me with your brilliance
You bake the earth
You crack it
You tear it apart
You killed my mother
My land
What good is it when it takes from me my life
(My two cents about the book. READ IT!)
Introducing Loneliness
Your constant companion
You lie if you say you don’t know me
I’m the one who sits beside you in the empty passenger seat
I’m the stranger who smiles at you at the mall
I’m the blanket you wrap yourself in every night
I’m the clock you hear ticking in the hall
I’m the breeze that ruffles your hair on a cold winter morning
I’m the scream that reverberates through your lonely frame
I’m the earth who cradles you in the grave
The sirens wailed
We knew the drill
As we ran through the streets
And down into the shelter
A family of fear
Waiting through the drag of time
Heads drooped heavy with sleep
Then jerked up
Death will be faced
Eyes wide open
Tomorrow wouldn’t be special
Hadn’t it been for the Romans
And now that it is
What are we going to do about it
Are we going to wake up and go about business as usual?
Or stop a moment and ponder on the year past…
It was Good and Bad and Terrible
In ways unimaginable
Yet beaten and bedraggled
Many of us made through
That should mean something
Tomorrow, as the world grows a year older
Let us approach it with a clean heart
And a sense of responsibility
Because we all are special to still be here
Let us start tomorrow as CITIZENS OF EARTH
