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.
Wanted to share with you the first ever review of my book of short stories “The Girl with the Paisley Dupatta and other stories”. The review was done by Maha Qazi of the YouTube channel Maha’s Musings.
She’s done a pretty good summary of the book in general and has also mentioned very relevant specifics from within some of the stories.
Take a look!
(P.S. I would describe myself as a “corporate RUT absconder. A bit of a Nutty enigma in the intro there! 😅)
I pick it up, I feel its form I hold it in my hands, the warmth Transfers slowly and I sense The tingle of the words within
I gaze at the lines upon its face I turn it over, my eyes trace The tale it whispers all its own Its beauty hidden, as yet unknown The seeds of intrigue have been sown It invites me in, in subtle tones We follow, I and my intuition On lightning wings, we race in! Another stridently demands that I Feel its spine from end to end And then I oftentimes comply As it tells its story by and by
I leave my existence behind For a while I’m in another life I go on voyages fraught with love With pain, with humor with suspense I journey on through these realms Sometimes laughing sometimes tense And then I will glance again At the portal to the world I’m in Pausing my trip-in words The story wraps itself up, and I’m Whisked back into the world Where I’m dutifully marking time
I feel its form one last time I leave it with a wistful smile That Teller of a myriad tales Waits until I visit it again
* Title inspiration from the novel by Thomas Hardy of the same name
I thought I’d write a poem today For a change, a cheerful one It seems like my prolific poetry Is making me the Queen of Glum
It’s not that I don’t see the beauty The hope and joy that abound In big and small spaces In young and old faces Oh i see it all around!
But I also see life’s glimmer Fade away, get slowly dimmer In close and distant places In fresh and weathered faces And my own feelings grow grimmer
The angst nudges the bard in me Unlike any rush of triumph or glee The words spill out agonised, enraged In wounded quatrains upon the page (And I have to say!) I feel lighter for the venting spree
So I thought I’d write a poem to tell Whether in fact I am capable Of verse that won’t assault your tear ducts Or indeed get your adrenaline up (What can I say!) These are the quirks of waxing lyrical
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’ve got my book of short stories on GOODREADS finally. Please take a little time out to leave a review if you’ve read some or all “The Girl with the Paisley Dupatta”. Thank you! 🌸
I woke up today, I’d had ten hours of sleep A mixture of guilt and satisfaction rolled around In my frontal lobe. Yesterday had been Another tsunami of sights and sounds So much activity, so much to process My neurons had scrambled like spooked racehorses With a glass of water, I sat still until I reached in my bag for my bottle of Advil
I finally went to bed, it was 3 am I had to switch off, I had to get to sleep I had to be a part of the human condition I closed my eyes and began counting sheep I lay in the wakeful throes of identifying The multicoloured sheep that went flying Across a rainbow stile that was ten feet high … Who was I kidding! Wide awake I opened one bright eye
Now when daylight stabs my eyelids with its beams A cosmic alarm clock to wake up to and be spry Even as it prods me in the haziness of my dreams I snooze it three-score times, as I waken by and by The Advil and the sheep remain my special twins One bleats its lullabies, the other stills the din So I go from day to day and from night to night Sometimes it’s tumultuous, at others it’s alright
A fond and fun tribute to all those who live in close quarters with Money Deols. May the universe keep sending you little kindnesses to make up for the relentlessness of your days 😄
I had this absolutely delicious dream Of floating amid pocketbooks laced with cream Dollar bills and five thousand notes Were sending their special bouquet up my nose
Morning came and I had to resign Those exquisite dreams to the tides of time But ever the optimist that I am I know I’ll dream of riches again
Today after breakfast I meditated On my bank balance in the United State-es My heart skipped a beat, I had to be cautious But oohhh! All that dough! So Expialidocious!
For lunch I had a sandwich and a coke My mind wandered into another nook Yes it was lined up and down with money bags I was so overcome I almost gagged
Tea was a peaceful affair as the day waned As I dipped in a biscuit my thoughts roamed again My prime real estate and other things like it Made each sip sweeter, each bite iconic
By dinner time the perfection of my day Was marred only by the distance that lay Between all my riches and my two hands That lovely bond only wealth connoisseurs understand
My prayers were modest as they always are: God please don’t ever take me far From my beloved’s legally tender embrace I bow to you, I request your benevolent grace
I then lay me down for another night Of gilded dreams and green backed sights I slowly drift off on precious wings Made of savings certificates and treasury bills
I laugh unabashedly, from the belly out Someone has said something absurd They all watch me in derision and doubt This woman who shouldn’t be seen or heard She speaks! What social license does she bear? She’s no debutante, she’s no political heir Yet she comes to these exclusive soirées And instead of blurring, fading away Into the background, this upstart lets down her hair
I walk out gaily, dressed like a queen I bump into my neighbour, the virulent Sameen Her face already garbed in a smug smile She says “Where to Maha? So dressed to kill?” I laugh loudly, her smile falters a bit “Just to the market, to get some things A shirt from Sapphire, two thootis* of kheer* A tub of it’s-none-of-your-business-my-dear Is there something you would like me to bring?
I’ve been alone these twenty five years But I’ve never been lonely, I decided that early I surmounted my doubts conquered my fears It wasn’t easy, it took a few years It took some lonesomeness, some vanishing acts From folks I called friends and even family who cracked Under the pressure of seeing me break out Of the box built for me by the socially devout But I dug in my heels, I wasn’t going back
Now there are friends and well wishers anew In all that chaff, I found these gems too They give me hope, they let me be me It’s been food for my soul, this honesty I know who I am and who I want to be And it’s not a reflection of what society Has plotted and planned for someone that swerves Through fate or design, outside its bell curve I’m contented, eccentric and oh so happy!
* Jawab-e-Shikwa: “Shikwa” (Complaint in Urdu) and “Jawab-e-Shikwa” (Response to Complaint) are poems written by the poet Mohammad Iqbal. They are known for their lyrical beauty and depth of thought
* Thooti: a small clay saucer in which some Pakistani and Indian desserts are sold in order to keep them cool and fresh
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.
Why? She asks me why do I Not get to do the things that he Does so freely, so independently Cavorting with opportunities Expanding his experience of the world That we both live in, why just he?
Why? She asks me why am I Held back by you and the others The elders of the family The uncles and the brothers For my own good I’m told Walled in like Rapunzel, from the world?
Why? She asks me why can’t I Go out on my own. Why can’t I Even stay alone at home? Why have I been singled out Among my siblings as the burdensome one The ill-fated sister among the men?
Why? She asks me have you built These rules to limit my existence Holding me back, making me doubt Myself, my being, my purpose in life Strangling my dreams to always stand Centuries behind a boy or a man?
Why? She asks me why are you Complicit in this chauvinistic ruse? Why did you learn to become small To deliberately set yourself up for a fall? You were better than everyone A hero …. No a heroine!
You my mother, the architect Of dreams, of hopes and even homes Why did you let it all go? Why are you expecting me to do The same, be a wraith of myself A fragile decoration on the shelf
Until I become someone’s wife Until you can pass on the keys of my life To someone else … to some man else Why? She asks me as the tears well In eyes that see the truth of the world That see the expanse of her wretched road
That is why they killed them all off The babies, the girls born centuries ago There was divine justice in that Saving them from a world that sat In Judgement, in anger, in self pride Over girls that survived the infanticide
Tell me mother, why was I Born a woman into this life? Why was I born into this home My dignity defaced, my wings shorn? Why do I feel like to get a fair try At life, another life, I first must die?
Attached below is a video introduction link to “The Girl with the Paisley Dupatta”, the significance of the title and the recurrent themes that run through the stories.
Mahvash Mohtadullah 