I feel the pull I feel the glimmer It surrounds me, it’s all around me I freeze as it coaxes me Out of the grip of my sanity I stop struggling And let it pull me in I drown Down, down In the tsunami gushing Inside my mind But only for a breath
I resurface then In my other world My secret one Where I have no anxiety Where I don’t want to run And hide I’m beside A swing in the garden And a rocking chair. I smile. They both hold the comfort And the softness of old friends They rest there quietly
I sit in the swing I push with my feet And peek through the leaves At the golden-red sky I can’t see them But I can hear the birds I think it is dusk A velvety glow wraps my world Golden paisleys and whorls Dance around my feet As I sway gently in my seat Dappled sunlight cloaks My shoulders like angels’ wings As I weave to and fro on the swing
I breathe out, my muscles untense I’m far away from cause and consequence No memories, no sorrows No yesterdays, no tomorrows It is Now and Now is everything I lean back In the swing She holds me softly In her cushioning I close my eyes I hear something Someone is calling me Voices from far away But my lids are so heavy I can’t keep awake In the tranquil buzz Of the honey bees And the gentle murmur Of the almond trees Like wraiths the voices fade away
I’m finally home, unbound, pain-free I lay my head back and sleep.
She’s not here anymore. She’s gone Adrift in the tangle of her dreams.
… Only because more and more it seems like the apple doesn’t fall far from its rotting, pestilential tree. But being the eternal optimist that I am, I’m hoping that a handful of the sons and daughters are at least questioning the political and entrepreneurial legacy they are inheriting from their thieving, deceiving, mobster parents and grandparents. But then I also think, who am I kidding! Still, here’s a verse which is probably farce by its very idealism.
I look at the statement That I have received At the burgeoning wealth In my off-shore company I revel in the fact That I’ve paid zero tax To the exchequer of my home country. “Remember your legacy and your roots” I always say to my progeny They will of course some day Fill my stompingly ample boots
I see the smirk On my son’s face It always gets to me In some weird way “I’m involved in this Complex enterprise Always walking On the edge of a knife! For your sister and you So get on the same page! Boy, this churlishness Is not a good look! Show some gratitude!” I thunder and rage
“You’re stealing from people In thieving hoardes Tradition and Legacy Are just hollow words If this is my ethos, Why does it reek Of insult, deception Of sly treachery I don’t want these roots No, no thank you These gnarled and twisted Tendrils of greed!” He looks at me With storms in his eyes Intimidating me Cutting me down to size
He looks at the statement That he has received Of the plundered millions In his off-shore company He holds it gently Almost reverently Even as he upbraids And tongue-lashes me He now stares me down I have to look away But at least I found the courage To finally have my say
A tad controversial? Maybe. But am I still saying it out loud, in rhyme and meter no less? But of course. Some folks mull over things in the privacy of their heads, others whisper them in low tones while my iPad … well, it just blurts them out, no holds barred. Whoosh! Here it comes like a sweetly painful winter chill to get your adrenaline up and your spine a-tingle.
Hello 46th* Are you seeing this? A war has been stoked Europe has refugees - Look! The shock of it! Afghanistan and Kashmir Don’t count; neither does The Middle East Oh please! The world is used to those People, forever in the throes Of some tragedy, Some devilry, Some new-fangled holocausts Of their own
Russia, the land of Ruskis and Putin You do so hate them all, Joe Biden Your last names though Have such a harmonious ring Putin, Biden … Biden, Putin But I digress, your sentiments Have reached across the continents To grapple at the throat Of that villainous foe That Trump-loving pariah That creator of election drama That divider of the faithful And good American folks
Oh, and you’re still not over The Hunt for Red October* The hunt that Hunter* hunted Via the Kiev crossover All the chickens that got away Came home to roost and lay Their devilled eggs, without the yolks Putin had them all artichoked! You believe in all of it The fairytale, the who-dunnit To Russia is where all the trenches lead Putin has always been so full of sheeet!
So now there’s bloody war afoot The gloves are off, we’re all in it It’s the same old American adage “You’re with us or you’re with the villains” And while you’re beating That hoodoo drum The whole world is slipping Into a recession. There’s no food, no fuel, No jobs to do These trickle-down economics Don’t affect you They make their insidious paths towards The poor, the beaten, the never seen nor heard
Hellooo 46th Do you at least see How so much is attributable To you directly? The depression, the frustration The agony That is doing the rounds On its maleficent spree I can see how you wont See this like we do How? you declare, can Uncle Sam be such a brute?! But you are! You are! And a bully to boot! On a final note, dear Joe May A tad bit of third worldliness That has so diligently been foisted on us Graciously, karmically circle around To you and yours. Please be assured It will be an experience profound.
* 46th: the 46th president of the USA
* The Hunt for Red October: Tom Clancy’s debut novel, it shows the contrast between Soviet and American societies as exemplified by their militaries. Another significant theme that is played out on several levels of the novel is that of betrayal.
* Hunter: Joe Biden’s son who is rumoured to have had dodgy business connections with Ukraine.
A storm is unleashed In sheets upon sheets Of pouring rain In a cacophony Pounding the ears Pounding the earth For a while The storm becomes a part of me I listen … I hear a howl, a primal cry I’m agitated, it feels so familiar I still my breath … I know that voice I’ve heard it before Finding itself In a tropical downpour As the sky tore open its breast Pouring out its glutted greyness On my world that was floating upon Even tides of peace and rest I heard it then, the banshee scream It swelled upon the torrents that Came down in never ending sheets I heard it then as I hear it now That voice that is screaming inside me
This is for the ladies. Amidst all the funniness abounding in the verse, there is a subtle message of self love and self reliance.
Here’s hoping that we can always read between the literal and figurative noisy lines that may be thrown at us in the name of love. And that our peace of mind and our sense of self worth always supersede other enterprises of the liver (jigar) and the heart!
No offence to my male family, friends and acquaintances - these are truth-telling times!
He said I love you Like I have never loved another I said you’re 48 and you’re still Looking for that perfect other?
Surely you’ve felt something in that realm You have walked down lovers lanes Were you perchance arm in arm With your tonic and your gin? And not a woman whom you’d consider A partner and a friend No, she was always just a trip A means towards an end Each bedecked your evenings out The “I love yous” that left your lips Were whispered as sweet nothings In between your boozy sips And now you tell me that You’re in love with me too Except it’s not your usual form You don’t know what’s happened to you! Maybe your three-month romances Would extend to five with me But the Shallow Hal* in you, pal Is still waiting to count to three And then your extra special Trademark escape artistry Will take center stage It’ll be the same old page From your book of Love for Free
That day he said I love you Like I have never loved before I said dear boy you wouldn’t know true love If it speared you in your gall bladder
…. and why I am undoubtedly the man of your dreams!”
* Shallow Hal: A 2001 Hollywood Rom-Com in which Hal, a shallow man who only dates attractive women, falls in love with Rosemary, after being hypnotized to see the inner beauty of women, not knowing that she is obese.
I feel like cobwebs have grown in places Where once there were gleaming surfaces In the sunshiny spaces of my mind It’s getting harder and harder to find The memory of that warm glow I felt when I went about my day It had lived on the side table Near the vase of poppies and the picture frames Now it’s gone, lost somewhere I can’t find it in the haze in there
I can’t find the memory of the eagerness That cloaked my every enterprise That memory sat near the poppy vase Now fractured, broken over time
I can’t find the memory of loving so hard That my heart felt like it would burst I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face The cosmos would thrum in my chest and my throat
I can’t find the dream where I ran down a hill And then went soaring up into the sky On wings of quick-silvery lightness Laughing, whooping with pure joy
Now that room of memories in my mind Is shabby, desolate, decayed I sometimes squint beyond the haze Looking for reminders of earlier times But the cobwebs grow in thick wedges Around empty frames with cracked edges.
I’m alone … but I’m not really alone In all the ways that don’t matter That shouldn’t matter, I’m never alone In all the ways that I need someone In all the ways of being human I’m alone. There is no one.
It wasn’t always like this, this lonesomeness It came on slowly as time went by As I transitioned, nay devolved Dislodged from the blessed marital fold From a wife to a wretched divorcee From a daughter to a social deportee
I couldn’t be the woman he’d conceptualised His wife to be. Already fantasizing He was in heaven itself, spoilt for choice By the virgins lined up in waiting For him to pick one or four to be his own I got picked first, then I got disowned.
I’ve been alone these twenty years Fading ever more into the background As time trudges on with heavy treads My aura fades, my voice has no sound I tried to talk louder at first to be heard But the booming voices of the world Were louder still, my voice was drowned
Now I sit here alone marking time For when the cosmos sees fit to smile In a new welcome; in a final decline I see people but they see me not They saw me only when I came out Of the box, against the tide of tradition Then there was outrage, there was derision
I don’t go out anymore nor do I Try to be bigger than the box fitted for me I sit in it quietly, patiently Lonely oh so lonely … but not really In all the ways that shouldn’t matter Im not alone. They all watch me In all the ways that would make my heart sing I’m alone, waiting for the final curtain.
He says they’re a bunch Of thieves and thugs Who have looted the nation Of its tea and its mugs They took the dregs of the Earl grey too! Those boot-polishing, lily-livered brutes!
They say he’s a nut job with lunatic illusions Of grandeur and psuedo-pious, Dipped-in-angel-dust delusions He’s not a statesman, he’s an unbridled curse! Our friends across the pond agree that’s what he is This has-been sportsman with his peerni* and tawiz*!
The citizens bewildered and confused Are wondering with whom they should side The saga plays out again, sly and crude Where the nation is taken for a frenzied ride The horse has long since become a lame ass Feeding on national common sense with a side of grass
The Paya* and Diesel Management says a lot The Dharna* Skipper flourishes his “Absolutely Not”! The repartee continues in savage tones We watch from the relative safety of our homes Then the power goes out and all is dark The slate is wiped clean, we are back at the start
* Peerni: A Muslim holy woman
* Tawiz: An amulet worn for good luck and protection
* Paya: A specialty dish in the subcontinent, the main ingredients are trotters cooked in various spices
A little disclaimer: This particular piece is not a critique of the institution of marriage itself, but the warped manner in which it is used to keep young women in check. To prevent them from breaking through the heavily-manned barriers created for them by society.
Yes, I waited a great big while For my knight in shining armour to arrive To sweep me off my impatient feet To finally enable me to start living my life
He came to our door, not on a steed That’s the whimsical stuff of fairytales Not really rigged for the 21st century The rest of the story I was sure prevailed
And so he came to our house in a car His mother and his sisters too I dutifully served them tea and samosas His eyes were fixed on me like glue
I tried to think of what I felt Did he stir something in my heart Did I feel a like-mindedness Was he the catalyst to my big, bright start!
The only thing rolling around in my head The only thing that I could really see Was the freedom to do all that I couldn’t now That sunlit pathway stretched ahead of me
I remember I smiled a little too much He grinned like a loon right back And so it was decided auspiciously That we’d be married in three months stat!
The wedding was done, it was T-plus six months And I sat at my dressing table I looked at the face of the woman in front Was she the euphoric lass of fables?
She looked back at me confusedly I pretended I didn’t quite read What her eyes were so desperately telling me That rabbit hole was just too deep
I looked away, this wasn’t the first time Of my inability to face the ghosts Of broken hearts and shattered dreams Of being deluded, of feeling lost
I had grown up believing with all my being That my best life lay ahead When I took on the mantle of someone’s wife That’s what age-old tradition said
But that’s not true, I now know When I can’t look at myself in the mirror There are shackles anew, I’m so confused My dreams couldn’t have been frailer
And so I wait yet again, but now Free of mythical notions and guiles For when I can find the courage to be Who I am, who I really have been all this while.
Do you remember when you felt the blood Gushing through your body You felt it etch into your being All the kindness, courage and love That you thought you could ever feel And your heart sang!
Do you remember how your breath Caught in your throat. The sheer shock Of those emotions rocking you inside You felt so overwhelmed that your tear ducts Felt the strain. You blinked your wet eyes And your heart sang!
You looked straight ahead The wave kept rising in your chest You felt like you were everything That you were meant to be. Your atoms ricocheted With those around you. Nature played A little bit of handball as she caught Your atoms in her hands and passed her own to you And your heart sang!
Do you remember feeling like this was The perfect moment in your time In your space, in your place And everything had come together that day to remind you That your heart was aligned with all That defined you as the happiest version of yourself And oh your heart, it sang!
You don’t remember - not really. Neither do I. I mean I remember the warmth in my being, the love flowing out In waves, in rivers. A oneness with the essence of the world But beyond that, I can’t remember; I can’t evoke the feeling Something has gone awry, something has been lost Along the way But I still see its ghost flitting Vaguely passing before my eyes when I am still But my heart, it doesn’t sing.
Cannons boom, bombs explode The world is the home of war Lieutenants give crisp commands To their soldiers, weary and sore
The tribunal sits in their gilded halls Drinking their whisky tea The senior most is ninety years old The youngest is seventy three
They take pride in stoking this war ‘Tis the battle of righteous men Sending sons and daughters to fight While they cackle in unison
There’s chaos and killing; a dread that is stilling The conflict they’ve wrought makes no sense The old men don’t care, as war trumpets blare Charged by the flourish of their pens
Soon the booming cannons and the bombs Will end their brutal repartee Of slashing and slaying - their bloody tribute paid To their masters across the seas
The dead will be many, they’ll lie in the mud Young soldiers from both sides, together The grief and the pain will be the same In the broken hearts of all the mothers
War is Jang* is война* is Guerre* There is no pretty word for it That can honour or extol or purify The endless sea of blood it lets
As cannons boom, bombs explode And the world crashes and burns The inflection point for humankind Is now at the cusp of no return.
Jang/ война/ Guerre: The word “war” in Urdu, Russian and Frenchrespectively.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 