The sea my seductress
The sea my lover
The sea is my mother
with a womb deeper than the universe.
I’ve been standing on the edge,
as she waves her tresses.
back and forth, forth and back,
tempting me, teasing me,
calling me in
binding me in her charm.
she laps up at my feet,
chipping away on my ground, bit by bit.
Shining, glowing, smiling in the moonlight,
almost taking me home,
only, to go back alone.
Long and winding
The road goes on ahead.
Surrounded by trees
that hide the deep waters behind them
and even deeper secrets within.
For miles there is not a soul in sight but me
I am not alone for,
I have the stars with me.
The stars, that shine brightly
as I swim through this darkness.
Two days ago in 2010, Mosaic was born on a whim to put down the waves and streams and trickles of thoughts that invaded my mind; sometimes against my ability to function ‘appropriately’ in the social. I will not say that it brought me immediate relief or that, like I have heard some say that, it can help vent out. Nope, it never did that as I dealt with the trauma of my father’s death. In fact, all it did was leave me burning with desire. Desire, to reach out to him, to reconnect to him through my words. I realise that I have taken to writing through my father. I was never nurtured or conditioned into reading and writing like #parentinggoals suggest. I was just made to be and observe and find my pleasures and joys and my own goals. School rotted some of it though he was always there to ensure that it did not corrupt my heart. I am happy he did not let it do so.
I never realised that I learnt a lot from him – that was his way of parenting, leading by examples. I will not say that he was not flawed – no one is without flaws but, like he had said to me once when I was working towards an exam and was very focused on acing it stating that number 2 was not an option, he simply told my 14 years old self that no matter what I am (number one or someone who is a failure), he will always love me the same. I believe that I picked up writing from him and I am just thankful that I did. When I started Mosaic 6 years ago and whenever I would write something from the place of a daughter missing her father, grieving over his loss, I hated what I came up with because they spoke of unrestrained and unedited passion. As I grew as a writer and explored more ideas and passions through my words, somewhere at the back of mind, I decided that for me to write something as my father’s daughter would be childish or maybe a piece which is cringe worthy. I realise I am my biggest critic there which again, I was warned against by my old man.
November 30th is his birth date and he would have turned 63 years old today. :)
Had it not been for tonight’s playlist that has Cohen’s last album, I would have cringed at myself again for writing about my father but, a conversation with a friend worried and scared and hopeless about what goes on in our world today where humanity is literally threatened in the scariest ways possible with humans against humans, I am happy to write things I have learnt from my wise, wise old man.
This world is a scary place
People have taken up arms against each other
Children cry as their mothers lie raped
And men lie in a corner drunken in their sorrows and defeats.
But, you who see this.
You, who feel the pain, why have you stopped?
Why do you believe in these
scenes of torture that you witness?
Don’t believe these to be your reality.
You are human,
you were born with courage.
Use it now and create a new reality.
You think it might not work?
Is that your fear?
But, isn’t that your job, to try that is?
Try and be your best.
Try and give it your all.
Get up now, now is the time to rise.
You might not see anything change in a second
But then, mountains weren’t moved in a night, were they?
You know the kind of world you want.
Believe in it and build it.
All you have to do is try.
I realise that as a writer I enjoy poetry the most. It’s simple, variable in the readers’ interpretation and spontaneous. So today’s poem is a Hindi / Urdu one which came to me one morning when I just could not sleep. There were just too many thoughts whirring in my brain and I had to write.
I usually do not like explaining the thought behind a poem because I feel it takes away the possibility of differing opinions and perceptions but, this ones different. This one, is about unrequited love or infatuation. Inspired by a sticky situation that a friend has been in off late and from many stories of unrequited love / feelings (maybe, including mine!), I can safely say that love is indeed a beautiful feeling / emotion, especially romantic love. However, love isn’t forced or that, it does not chain one’s heart. From what I understand now that those Bollywood flicks or old school poems were trying to convey, love is a free emotion and can be felt by anyone for anyone or thing, something that makes you become better – though love for things is greater these days! Won’t kill the read now and will stop here. Read on!
Sketch in black Indian ink on ruled paper
Hindi / Urdu
Kaun tha tu?
Kahan hai tu?
Kaun thi woh, jo padhi tere pyaar mein?
Itni besudh hui tere ishq mein
Ki bhool gayi thi apna wajood main.
Jise ishq samjha tha
Woh to nadaani samjhi tune.
Ik pal mein mera jahan ban gaya tha tu
Arey haan! Thi to bilkul nadaan hi main.
Par tu to samajhdaar tha?
Tujhe nahi dikh raha tha?
Kyun behlaya tune mujhe fir?
Kyun nahi apna asli chehra dikhlaya?
Khair, aaj mujhe tujhse nahi hai kuch gila
Na ki thi tab bhi maine koi shiqayat.
Jis pal tune mere jazbaat ko nakara tha
Jis pal tune apne banaye sach ko jhutlaya tha
Us pal hi maine apna wajood wapis paaya tha
Shayad us samay tabhi mere muh se sivay hasi ke kuch nahi nikla tha.
Mere mann me chhayi ik ajeeb si shanti thi
Jaise bahut ghane toofan ke beech ek chuppi
Dabe paon meethe meethe sannate mein mujhe gholi ja rahi ho
Jaise ki wo sab aur kuch nahi has ek sapna tha
Aur ab main jag gayi hun.
Who were you?
Where are you?
Who was she, the one who fell for you?
Was so lost in your love
That I had lost my self.
What I thought was love
You took it to be silly infatuation.
In a moment, you had become my world.
Oh yes, I was indeed silly.
But, weren’t you wiser?
Could you not see?
Why did you lead me on then?
Why couldn’t you say the truth?
I have nothing against you anyway, now.
Nor did I complain then.
The moment you denied my feelings
The moment you broke the truth that you had built
That moment itself, I found my self again.
Maybe that’s why in that moment, all I could respond with was a smile.
There was a strange sort of peace in my heart
As if in the midst of a terrible storm, a silence had
Creeped up and stirred up sweet silence in my heart, in my being.
As if all of it was a dream
And I am awake now.