I had a dream last night You were in it Fuzzy, unclear But the hook was there That had plucked you from somewhere Inside my head or maybe From some deserted place in my heart It wasn’t an act Of which I was aware I had no say In the furtive way You appeared around me again Even if you were phantasmic, chimerical In that time, you were real A swaying, decaying bridge coupling The physical and the figmental
It left a bitter aftertaste In my mouth when I awoke I brushed my teeth With renewed vitality (My dentist would be happy at least) I spent the day going over the locks I had put around certain memories These escapes Even in my dreams Made me restless, agitated me When I was awake Tonight I will have my dose Of vitamins and supplements (They promise all sorts of well-being) So that when I dream The bolted doors inside of me Keep holding their integrity
But even if they lose their might Releasing spectres of the night I know that in my waking hours In dissecting and determining The cryptic whys and wherefores Of night-garish visions Invading, distressing me These dreams, these unbidden images Have already lost their sting They’ve shed their whipping wings To fly at me when I’m asleep Through all of my monster-proofing And so deep down inside Something tells me that tonight I will dream of other things.
Life is like a box of chocolates Someone once said Sometimes you get The caramel-drenched centres That melt in the mouth Like liquid satin, swishing on your tongue In silky, sweet tones Caressing your taste buds until Languidly, unhurriedly They lavish one last nectarous kiss Before disappearing In ambrosial bliss Down the tunnel of your throat
At others it’s the bitterness of a centre That’s dark - 90% cacao That unleashes on your tongue Spearing, laughing, spearing again Inflicting a bitter-sweet pain Just enough for you to stop and think To wonder if this is good A revelation Of taste, an experience That’s bold, distinct To recall, to remember when You’re short on inspiration Or whether in fact It is an assault no less On the mundaneness The safeness On your everydayness Plodding on your tongue Like a thug that’s sold His essence, his soul To the gods of gastronomic Absurdity and virulence
I look back, the rhyme is longer For the bitterness that lingers In the mouth; but I have also realized That my taste buds have conspired With my mind to bind Most of the time To memories that are wholesome Sugared, caramelised So even when I pick A chocolate from life’s mix I hope for the sweetness The toffiness, the bliss But I also sit in readiness For the wave of bitterness That sometimes takes me in its grip But always itinerant Shifting, moving on And so I too go on Savouring Every piece, never wavering From the cholocate box of life.
Outside in the garden There’s a Passion flower vine Its little green tendrils Have curled here and there Where the shoots are fullest Lushest, most verdant They burgeon and grow Weaving circles of rapture Until they’ve spun around Seven times Lighting up the chakras of life And then just like that Their work done Of dancing in the sun They fall
Inside the house There’s a woman Her hair Is tied up in a bun She’s on the run With little tendrils escaping At the nape of her neck She’s rushing upstairs There’s a toddler emergency And then she races like the wind Into the kitchen To make breakfast And then she’s on the run again Appointments, to-do lists, errands To complete And then back to cook and clean To feed and coddle, kiss a bruised knee
The hours weave their set design Finite, regimented, organized But she has no sense Of its texture or lines The day is done and finally She sits down for a while Soft tendrils forming At the nape - one, two, three I hold my breath I count the whorls in the curls The longest one has six I look away A little thought flits up to me Unexpectedly, a sign Whispering secrets I don’t want to hear Of endings on the whorl-bearing vine
She smiles at me tiredly I wish, I wish fervently That the curls that gather Loosely around her neck Is just hair soaked in sweat In the labour of love I pray, I pray silently Into the depths of whatever’s out there God, the universe, ethereal energy For the moisture laden curls to weave Their mystical circles for a few more years Until they attest To a life well-lived, joyfully Until they wear their silver-grey majesty Before they finally Unspool in eternal rest.
I was lost I took the path Less trodden, I tossed Away the ease Of normalcy I walked away Off the street that carried feet Teeming, streaming busily Easily, its metalled gray Smooth and safe, predictable
I’d felt strong, invincible I walked away Aimlessly, Trail-lessly, No signs, no familiarity I walked I walked Directionless, solitary On and on I walked and walked Until doubts and insecurities Snaked hoary tendrils around me But I walked on until my feet Were bruised and cut Until they bled Until I wept
================================ Until I had forged a road ahead ==================================
It now lies cleaved and gravelly With little grooves Once stained with blood And squelching mud Filled up With wild flowers now Sun dappled through shady boughs The path ahead of me Now gleams with its own lambency
I was lost I left the path oft-trodden, I crossed Into uncharted territory Where the wilderness roamed free Accompanied by the gleam of stars And the warmth of cherished dreams There I carved my own way Hope-hewn, Grit-laden, Endlessly It now stretches out in front of me.
There’s a girl in the sunset Her hair is ablaze Her dupatta streams In the arid breeze I can’t see her face I catch my breath She stands there still So still I see the horizon seethe and rage Scorch her in its red-hot rampage I close my eyes I’m afraid to look Afraid to see the heavens burn Afraid to see the ashes blown Of the girl that is standing there alone
But then
My stinging eyelids fly open, I see She’s still there She looks back at me The blaze of the sun Now a shimmering red Halo around her head Like a crown She won’t go down When her world careens When her world burns all around Grey smoke rising from the sea Of charred, asphyxiated dreams She stands there serene She gathers the light around her being She smiles, she gleams She is the fire queen.
Dappled sunlight Upon my skin Warm, streaming motes Kiss my neck My arms, my face Whispering sweet nothings Caressing, comforting My shoulders drop The weight of the world That sits on them Like twin rocks I’m no longer Atlas Holding up the sky Shivering In its storminess Legs quivering Under its burden of sighs And tears and loss For now It has all melted away The coldness, the heaviness, the grey For now There is only a quiet joy A rainbow sprinkling Of dappled sunlight Upon my skin Thawing me, warming me From within.
Are you ready? said he softly I was sitting and watching tv For what? I asked full well knowing The implications of that simple question
For your journey onwards from here He said quietly in my ear I stared ahead, I couldn’t look Into eyes that held the whole cosmos
I still have things to do I said Even as my heart filled with dread I still have dreams and wishes said I Even as I felt my mouth go dry
He waited watching me silently His shadow was now a part of me I took a breath and looked at him His eyes looked back serene, glowing
I cried, I am afraid to leave Even if I have always believed That one day I must walk away Wrapped in death’s final embrace
But that faith has always surrounded me On the outside, while inside of me Has grown a choking, gnawing terror Of the day that you would appear
He took my hand and held it fast My hand in his we touched my heart The blue-gray fear that sat in there Evaporated into the air
I felt my soul for the first time Floating, thrumming, humming inside I smiled even as the tears flowed Silver, sparkling, love-hallowed
I laughed, I cried, I laughed again Life was beautiful even at the end I loosened the strings bound to the past And closed my eyes as I breathed my last.
My book SHIMMERING SCRAPS OF POETRY AND MADNESS is now available at the following locations:
SRI LANKA: - THE BAREFOOT BOOKSTORE - THE JAM FRUIT TREE BOOKSTORE - PENDI - SARSASAVI BOOKSTORES - EXPOGRAPHICS
PAKISTAN: - LIBERTY BOOKS - PARAMOUNT BOOKS - READINGS
ABOUT THE BOOK:
The book is a collection of poems and essays, and as the name suggests, the contents of the 243 pages range from the sublime to the ridiculous; from soaring on the wings of ecstacy to struggling with overwhelming despair; from the capricious joys of matrimony to the dubious delights of singledom; from the profound ecstasy in a mug of steaming latte to the ardent disappointment in a less than perfectly brewed cup of tea; from the comedic to the somber and from the customary to the controversial, this collection of poems and features encompasses them all, and like a sore-throated bulbul (who also has some clear-voice days) I have sung them all for you.
They look at each other Awkwardly It’s been thirty five years Since they’d last seen each other Blood has flowed thinner, starker than water For the two sisters Now standing together
They sit down It’s in the younger one’s home The older one perches on her seat Hands clasped around her knees Knees bunched together awkwardly
The younger one makes the tea The steaming, billowing pour Softening, mollifying the tension That has stretched like taut skin Raw, painful, blue-complexioned On the surface of the atmosphere
The older one reaches for the milk She pours it into her cup of tea Hesitates and looks at her Wondering if she still drinks it The same way she did before
The younger one nods, smiles ever so faintly She puts the sugar in Looks at the older one inquiringly No, she didn’t have sugar in her tea From each other, they both look away At the steaming cups on the tray
The brews in the cups Swirl for a while Spin and beguile Then come to rest Pulling a film of whey and casein Around their hearts Hiding away from the scene Hiding away from the awkwardness
“Do you remember -“ “Do you remember -“ “You used to love the milk skin on the tea” “I used to love the milk skin on my tea”
They look at each other At last They laugh Sweet-awkwardly Eyes moist, hearts beating fast The tension is torn away Finally In the gush of warmth From the tea From she looking at her From her looking back smilingly
The older one looks at her cup The smile still playing on her lips She picks up her spoon To remove the cream Her sister never had it Today she wouldn’t too
The younger one looks at her cup Gazing down at the membrane Floating in the milky brew She picks up her cup Her sister always had it Today she would too.
Mahvash Mohtadullah - The Roaming Desi 