The tea’s still warm upon our breath
The samosa crunch still lingers
On the horizon the sun now rests
Like a russet-orange finger
The quiet echoes of our chats
Still reverberate around
Won’t you stay as the garden plays
Out its evening song?
My heart still beats toasty warm
From your visit to me today
Let me have my fill of you
For a little longer, stay
The tea’s still warm upon our breath
Memories plume out in wraiths
Reminiscing, remembering
The sweetness of bygone days
Stop and listen - do you hear
The wind blow through the trees?
Let your mind soar up a little
To the rustle of the leaves
Stop and look - do you see
Her golden yellow wings?
As the bee floats round the flowers
Gathering nectary-sweet things
Stop and touch - do you feel
The texture of the bark?
Of the grand old banyan tree
It’s head swaying up with the lark
Stop be still - let your heart fill
And your atoms all slow down
As you walk through the ethereal realm
Of nature as she abounds
He looked at me with eyes of love
I could not hold his gaze
My heart lay closed and tightly bound
In yards of purple lace
It once had soared high above
Where eagles roam the skies
But since then it had plummeted
It had shrivelled up and dried
By and by it beat again
As I slowly found my peace
But it still liked to hide away
In its blue-violet niche
So when he looked at me with eyes
That spoke of tender starts
I looked away, there was no way
Into my blue-bruised heart
Someday when the colours change
Of the blood that flows within
Of when my heart reddens anew
And once more soars and sings
I hope that I can hold that gaze
So full of affection
Until then I hope to heal enough
To want to love again
I sometimes wonder if I heard
A new rustle in the trees
Would I be brave enough
To open up my door and see
I wonder if I ever heard
Its tread outside my place
Would I be calm and ready
To meet it face to face
I might sit still holding my breath
This would be something new
But it is all eventual
It’s what we all go through
If it looked at me and held
Out its hoary palm
I wonder if I’d have courage enough
To clasp it in my own
If it stood to lead ahead
Waiting for my cue
I wonder if I would follow it
Into the cosmic blue
If indeed it came to me
While I was fast asleep
I wonder if I would float away
On wings of final dreams
And so I hope that when I hear
My name called to depart
That in serenity and grace I walk
The all-eternal path
I feel it shifting
The air around me
It hums a new dirge
In the rustle of the trees
It wafts through copses
Of almond and neem
Fraught with scent-memories
Right out of my dreams
The Earth wears a glimmer
Like it’s pulled out taut
Resplendent, kinetic
Like a tiger just caught
I feel her eyes bore
Deep into my soul
Flecked with vermilion
Full of phantoms and ghouls
I feel her hot breast
As she holds me close
Pulsing, convulsing
Her lifeblood in throes
I hear it sometimes
Her seized-seismic sigh
It thrums in my head
Like death’s lullaby
Look softly my darling
When you look at me
Be calm and be tender
As I take my leave
I want to remember
Your lovely face
Serene and peaceful
As I leave this place
Let us talk of things
That are close to our hearts
Of bittersweet endings
Of gentle new starts
Of faces and places
Those still here, those gone
Of tea-cozied rainy days
As I hum my last song
Look softly my dear one
When you look at me
Let your beautiful smile
Be the last thing I see
I look at the book
Have I read it before?
It’s a throng of short stories
My favourite genre
I took it from the shelf
In my own home
So it has to be one of the
For-sure-read tomes
Still, as I glanced
At the back cover blurb
Nothing jumped out
Not a line, not a word
I looked at its front
Multi shades of grey
The image glimmered
In its dusky array
I opened the book
I had to recall
A story, a plot twist
A mystery resolved
In the 267 pages
I held in my hand
So I started reading
Page one, it began:
That day Alisha
Looked up at the sky
The purples and blues
Looked terribly awry …
The rest of the story
Unwrapped itself
As I glanced through page two
Of the book from my shelf
Yes I had read it
The memory crept in
Of ETs and UFOs
And otherworldly things
Of skittering creatures
That had huge heads
Full of insidious plans
To make us all dead
Or not! Even in fiction
They were polite
Giving us choices
Being forthright
Choices! Forthrightness!
Now those are things
That are as alien now as
Well … human beings!
Laughing, I put
The Sci-Fi away
Our own lives were stranger
Than fiction these days
It’s your birthday today
And I wanted to say
That I wish I could see you
For a little while today
That your essence surrounds me
On all of my days
Even if you are a breath or eons away
That I love you
And I miss you everyday.
Even if my words limited as they are
While making their cosmic way to you
Should lose their form, be strewn apart
That the love in them still finds its way to you
I hope that you are happy and you’re well
I hope you still have your special sparkle
I hope you’re still lighting up lives
As a friend, a mentor, a spirit divine
I hope your radiant glow also reaches within
To make your big, lovely heart sing
My dearest I hope you get this message of mine
In these words, on the breeze or in the warm sunshine
My memories of you are full of joy
Uplifting, heartwarming, they don’t usually hurt
But today thoughts of you that flit through my mind
Bring a sweet achiness to my throat
It’s your birthday dear Mama and I wanted to say
May the choicest of blessings fill your time and space.
… 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
I looked at her over my coffee mug
Stealing silent glances
Looking her way
Then looking away
My heart had set up a regular cacophony
As I stared at her secretly
From above the rim of my cup
That I brought to my lips to sip,
The adrenaline instead making me chug
She sat there, serene and beautiful
An ode to perfection itself
Between the gulps I watched and drooled
Oh lord! I felt like such a fool!
I took in a ragged breath
I had to calm myself
I had to let the feeling pass
To wring it, wash it from my heart
I had to fight, wrest my hungry eyes
Off that whetter of fantasies, that queen of delight
That mesmerizing, will-defying Passion Fruit Tart
Day breaks and I’m asleep
But I can tell it’s dawn again
The light touches my retina
Through the barrier of my skin
It gently feels its way around
The darkness behind my shuttered lids
Then it sits itself down
Waiting for me to let it in
To start its morning ritual of
Dancing with my rods and cones
The caper sometimes morphs into
A red hot duel that is fought
Electro-impulsively in my brain
Where the battleground is wrought
Or we break into a marathon run
Away, away from every one
Flowing with the adrenaline
Out of the arteries, into the veins
I lead it where it needs to go
Some days we waltz, and on some
We antelope it out the door
Day breaks, I open my eyes to see
I’m floating, floating into infinity.
I sit with the sweet pain
Of remonstrating muscles
Aching tendons
It’s been a good day
I’ve clocked my vital number
Of steps again
Day Eight. Eight days. Day Eight
Of doing my best
The precious little victories
Sit like shiny safety pins
In my body. Their lancing points
Glimmering. Abrading. Wounding
Forcing tiny trickles of red-hot plasma
To run outside my veins
In the sweet agony of pain
Reminding me that I’m still alive
I’m still surviving, still striving
Still clocking all the steps
That keep this life ongoing
Going on. Ongoing. Going on
I breathe in deeply. Tonight
I am serene, there will be no dreams
To torture or torment me. Tonight
In Sleep’s benumbing arms
I will lay down my head
I breathe out, uncoil, soft-ache-bound
As I sink into the swelling seams of my bed.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 