Story

The thing about being so old, so ancient was the way that people started treating you. They bade goodbye to you silently in their scheming black hearts, writing you off as a sooner rather than a later case, told everyone in your neighborhood that you weren’t up to doing anything anymore, forcibly (and rather evilly, I think) making  you take your afternoon nap, while eying your good crockery all the time. The world is a cruel place for the weak. But no matter how old they all insist you are, or how weak, the thing is, that at the end of it, the heart still beats with the enthusiasm of the youth and one feels the same freedom of 16.

No man, or woman for that matter, however well-intentioned, understood this. And so was the case with my granddaughter, who happened to visit on the afternoon before my 93^rd birthday.

“No buts, Granma...” she warned me as she handed me my 12 o’ clock medicines.

“But... “I protested, not willing to give up without a struggle.

“You will take this and this and this ... “she said, jabbing at the blue, pink and red capsules lying innocently on her palm, “and you will take them NOW.” She finished, in her don’t-mess-with-me tone of voice.

Sighing, I did as asked of me.

Her gaze softened now. “Oh c’mon, Granma, don’t sulk now”, she chided me gently.

“I am not sulking.” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster. I watched her from my place at the head of the old table. She frowned with the effort as she worked, sorting out my ironed clothes into neat little bundles. Already six months pregnant, and still slaving it out. Without a word of protest or any hint of resentment. My heart melted.

“Sit.” I said, smiling at the young girl. She smiled in response, not pausing in her work.

“Can’t, Granma, have to have you sorted a little early today.” At my questioning glance, she added,” Its Cousin Berta’s birthday party. Its’ her first, since, well...” she cleared her throat, pausing for a minute, and then overcoming her emotion, continued with her brisk cleaning.  “So, you see, we have to have you all done before that.”I said nothing.

Ah, Berta. Poor kid. My memories rushed back to that scene nearly 65 years ago.

*************

It was a still house, as I tiptoed in, still in the early hours of the morning. I had been out on a conference for the last week, and was hoping to surprise Rob, my as always unsupportive husband.

It was not my fault that I found him in bed with my cousin!

Although, later everyone seemed to act like it was. Really, life was so unfair .Berta’s mother had been a real beauty at the time, with beautiful copper brown, flawless skin and the outrageously flirtatious nature of hers. Looking back, I suppose, it had been my own stupidity that prevented me from seeing the signs. Or maybe it was love. Who knows?

Cousin Ree, it turned out was in love .with MY husband. But Ree in love was a phenomenon that didn’t happen very often, so much so that people seemed to overlook the fact that it WAS my husband they were talking about.

I remember the conversation I had had with my parents, that night.

“Ree is in love! “

“So what, ma?

Why is that such a big deal..?”

Then my ma had sat me down and given me a lecture that made me realize for the very first time, how very alone I really was.

“Gigi, you have got to understand, that your father and I, we took Ree in when she was barely 5, fresh from the loss of her mother. It is our responsibility to ensure her happiness.” Said my mother, which was predictable. It always, always started like this.

“There are affairs that she has had, but nothing like this! They have been wastrels, who have broken her heart everytime.This is her only chance. How can you want to take this from her?” said my father.

“Why does it always have to be about her?”

“It is about both of you, Gigi. You are older to her, you should understand! “

“How can you be so cruel? Not even thinking of your daughters’ happiness!”

“How dare you!” My father had admonished.”We are thinking of both our daughters!”

“No, you only think of her!” I had sobbed.

“Look, at you gigi...you have a career, a house, a car. You can have any guy you want! It is not like you and Rob were soul mates or anything. You wouldn’t have lasted, he wanted a baby and the doctor said that you wouldn’t conceive also!”, my mother tried to explain.

I stared at her. “What does that have anything to do with it?”

“Think of it positively, Gigi. Rob and Ree can both have what they want.”

I remember how miserable I had been, and how tired of it all.

“He is MY HUSBAND. Not some doll that you pass on from one person to the other…” I had screamed.

“And he has made his choice.” My ma had told me.

And he had.

Rob got married to Ree a barely a week after the divorce came through.

 They had one child, whom they named Berta Ree Thomas, after her mother who passed away in childbirth.

 (TO BE CONTINUED...)

YELLOW DAYS

THERE WERE DAYS OF LAZING AROUND AND LYING IN THE PARK


OF LAUGHING AND GIGGLING ALOUD,

SAYING RIGHT WHATS’ ON YOUR MIND

WITH NOTHING MUCH TO WORRY ABOUT.

DAYS HEAVENLY ON CLOUD NINE,

OF LAUGHTER, SUNSHINE, BRIGHTNESS, FUN

WITH NO PAIN, ANGER, OR CRYING

DAYS WHEN YOU COULD BE GLAD AND JUST RUN

AND BELIEVE THAT ONE DAY YOUR DREAM’LL GO FLYING

DAYS WHEN THE SUNRAYS

WENT STREAMING OVER BUTTERCUPS

MAKING THEM SHINE WITH RICH YELLOW JOY

DAYS WHEN YOU COULD

HEAR EACH OF NATURES’ BREATH

BREATHE IN THE HAPPINESS

AND LET IT SINK IN.

WHEN YOU COULD LIE ON EARTHS’ CHEST

ON THE TENDER GREEN GRASS

AND LISTEN TO THE RHYTHM OF HER HEARTBEAT

IN THE BEATS OF THE WINDS.

DAYS WHEN BUTTERFLIES COULD STILL VENTURE INTO YOUR THOUGHTS

MINDS SO EMPTY OF EVERY WORRY.

BLISSFUL DAYS OF VACANT PARADISE

DAYS WHEN BAD GUYS COULD TURN TO GOOD,

WHEN BARBIE DOLLS WERE PRINCESSES,

WHEN FAIRYTALES COULD BE BELIEVED IN

& GOOD GUYS WOULD ALWAYS WIN.

A LITTLE BLUE BIRD

A LITTLE BLUE BIRD


SO HAPPY AS SHE IS

HOPS ABOUT AND THREADS THROUGH

THE CLOUDS LIKE FLEECE

A LITTLE BLUE BIRD

CHIRPING ALL DAY LONG

GAY, SPIRITED, YOUNG, SAFE IN THE

ASSUMPTION THAT SHE’LL BELONG

A LITTLE BLUE BIRD

MERRY AS SHE DOES HER CHORES

BRINGING HOPE AND JOY

TO THE SAILORMEN ON THE SHORES



WHY CAN’T I BE LIKE YOU, BLUE BIRD?

EVER JOYFUL, SPIRITED, GAY

YOU WITH YOUR WINGS CAN HOP AROUND AND PLAY

BUT HERE IN THE SQUALOR OF MANKIND

IN THE DRAB AND MOROSE MOOD

THAT GAIETY IS HARD TO FIND

BELIEVE ME, I WANT TO FLY WITH YOU AND FIND WHAT THE SKIES HAVE IN STORE,

BUT I CANT-I’M TIED UP,

PINNED DOWN TO THE FLOOR.

BORN AGAIN

Darkness goes and comes


And so does light

So does hope, beauty and faith

And all things bright



For every sparrow that dies

That loses its life

At that moment

A fledgling takes birth

Frail and clinging and blind

A little bit of life



For every darkness

That casts a gloom

Over the deadened world,

A dawn springs alive



For every life hanged

At the gallows of the guilty

An infant with innocence profound

Is brought in to the world



For every tear, there is a smile,

And for every sorrow, time to heal,

And joy to overcome sadness

So overwhelming and hard to bear

For every wound, there is a balm

For each insult- praise

For each black hole, a shining star

And various hues of life

To cover up the grays



For each life taken, there is one given

For all that must die

Will be born again as to renew time, space, man immaterial

Is the meaning of life

IN A THOUSAND WOUNDED EYES

WHEN THE SKIES ARE GRAY WITH GLOOM AND


PIERCING CLARIONS SCREAM OUT ‘DOOM’

WHENTHE SCARLET RED ON THE BODIES AROUND

MAKES IT LOOK LIKE FATE HAS FROWNED

UPON MANKIND

AND THE WORST EVER LOOKS LIKE IT HAS BEEN DESTINED



THEN, IN THE SQUALOR, THE POVERTY, THE GRIME

IN HUMANITYS’ MOST HEINOUS CRIME

IN THE BATTLES RAGED, WON AND LOST

IN THE EYES OF THE MEN DYING IN THE FROST



IN THOSE THOUSAND WOUNDED EYES,

AND THOSE ABSYMALLY DISFIGURED FACES,

COVERED BLISTER BY BLISTER,

YOU SEE A FLICKER- JUST A FLICKER

OF HOPE – THAT MAY SOME DAY BRING DAWN,

OF LIGHT THAT MAY SOMEDAY SHINE ON ALL



IN THE CRIES OF THE VULTURES CIRCLING OVERHEAD

THEIR GNAWING AT THE PEOPLE HALF-DEAD

IN THE BATTLEGROUNDS WHERE THE ONLY COLOUR SEEN IS RED

IN THE SHOUTS FOR HELP LEFT SUSPENDED IN THE AIR,

IN THE FACES THAT ARE CRYING, PLEADING,

IN THE FACES THAT ARE BARE

IN THOSE THOUSAND WOUNDED EYES,

CANNOT YOU SEE

THE HOPE FOR THE ULTIMATE MIRACLE

THAT WILL SET THEM ALL FREE

THAT WILL LET THEM RENOUNCE THIS WORLD-SO RUTHLESS

AND RELIEVE THEM OF THE PAIN OF THE FLESH

THAT’LL LET THEM GO TO A PLACE WHERE THERE IS NO PAIN

THAT WILL LET THEM GO-WITHOUT EVER HAVING TO VISIT AGAIN.

LIFE LIVED WELL

ON THE BRINK OF MY LIPS IS AN EARNEST PRAYER


THAT TOMORROW IN LIFE HOWEVER I MAY FARE

AND PUT YOU TO ME WHATEVER TEST,

JUST GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO GIVE IT MY BEST.



THE WIND THAT BLOWS SHOULD ALSO SAY

THAT I WAS JUST TO WHAT CAME MY WAY,

AND THE NIGHTINGALE OF THE NIGHT,

AND THE CUCKOO, THE BIRD OF SPRING’S NEW LIGHT

SHOULD SING AND TELL

THAT WHATEVER I DID, I DID WELL



SHOULD THE LIFE’S MISLEADING ADVENTURE PATHS COME,

AS I KNOW THEY WILL

AND SHOULD LIFE’S TRUDGE ALL SEEM UPHILL,

LET THE UNREST AND PAIN ALL SEEM SWEET,

AND THE GRINDING BE SO TILL WORK’S COMPLETE.



SO MUCH SO THAT THE SUN SHOULD SAY,

ITS HEAT ALSO DID NOT BEAR ME DOWN ON THE WAY,

AND THE MOUNT SHOULD ALSO BE IN THE KNOW,

OF THE TOIL AND SWEAT OF THE BROW.



FOR WHEN THE SUN’S GOLDEN RAYS ARE SPENT

THE AUTUMN SET AND THE BACK IS BENT,

ALTHOUGH THERE MAYBE NO MEDALS TO BE WORN

AND THE MERITS OF MY WORK TO BE SHOWN,

THE WORK I DID SHOULD LIVE ON,

TO BE SHOWN TO ALL AFTER MY TIME BORN,

SO MUCH SO THAT GOD SHOULD ALSO COME TO SAY,

THAT HERE WAS A GIRL, WHO MADE HER OWN WAY,

ACROSS VALLEY, CANYON, RIDGE, RIVER AND HILL,

HERE’S A LIFE THAT HAS BEEN LIVED WELL

REMEMBERING YOU

DUSK FALLS AND STARS BEGIN TO PEEP,


THE COLD WRAPS ME UP IN AN EMBRACE,

AND THE DAGGER OF REALITY BEGINS TO SEEP IN;

SLOWLY I COME OUT OF MY DAZE

OH! HOW STILL AND FEARFUL IS THE NIGHT

THE SILENCE IS BOUNDLESS

RESOUNDING WITH A MOURNFUL ECHO,

IN THE STRAINED MOONLIGHT,

THERE SEEMS TO BE A WORLD A HUNDRED MILES AWAY

A WORLD I CANNOT REACH,

THE WIND IS MERCILESS AND THE CLOUDS GRAY

STRANDED IN THE PIT OF MELANCHOLY,

SO DARK, COLD AND DEEP

IT FEELS AS IF MY SOUL HAS BEEN LASHED AND THE PAIN IS STILL RAW

MY HEART IS CRYING FITFULLY

MY WHOLE SELF HAS BEEN CLAW-ED OUT

THERE IS NOTHING LEFT ANYMORE

I AM SINKING INTO AN ABYSS

OF AGONY, PAIN AND SORROW

I AM CHOKING IN FATES’ IRON-COLD FIST

AND IT SEEMS THERE CAN BE NO TOMORROW

THE TEARS I CRIED HAVE FROZEN INTO ICEDROPS NOW

THE WINDS HAVE WHIPPED ME ENDLESS

YET MY FACE IS BARREN

THERE’S NO TWINKLE IN MY EYE

THERE IS NO SPRING IN MY STEP

EVERYTIME I LOOK AT YOU MY HEART WANTS TO CRY.

I KNOW I SHOULD BE HAPPY

YOU’VE GONE TO A MUCH BETTER PLACE

BUT YOU KNOW I’LL MISS YOU

FOREVER FROM NOW I’VE LOCKED YOU IN MY HEARTS SPACE

SOUNDS OF EARTH

IT IS IN THE RHYTHMIC WIND BEATS,

THE NOISE OF THE SHORE,

THE CRUNCHING SOUND OF WET SAND ON A BEACH,

A STORM’S FURORE.



THE HOWL OF A WOLF AND ITS’ PACK

THE SHRIEKS OF A NIGHTBIRD

HALF-AWAKE.


IN THE SWEET MELODY OF THE CUCKOO BIRD,

IN THE SAD AND DESPONDENT SOUNDS,

THE PECK OF A WOODPECKER-SO PERSISTENT,

AND THE HARSH BARK OF HOUNDS.



IN THE CRACKING OF A NUT,

IN THE CRACKLING OF FIRE,

IN THE BLOOMING RUSH OF A BUD,

CANNOT YOU HEAR EARTH’S LYRE?



THE LAUGHTER OF MAN,

HIS EXHIBITS OF LOVE.

A SWEET FIRST KISS,

THE SOUND OF A DOVE.



THE EARTHS’ RHYTHM CAN BE HEARD

THE BEATS WITH WHICH SHE GYRATES,

HER LOVE AROUND US VIBRATES

HER SOUL SETTING US FREE

LEADING US ABOVE TIME, MAN, MANKIND

LEAVING ALL SORROW AND DESPONDENCE

BEHIND.

TAKE MY HAND

THE CLOUDS ARE DRAWING CLOSER,


AND THE SKY’S TURNING GRAY,

THE FUTURE STORM SCARES ME-

A TINY GIRL OF TWO,

AND A VOICE I HEAR-FAMILIAR AND WARM,

TAKE MY HAND CHILD, I’LL WALK WITH YOU,



THE CROWD’S NEW,

AND MY STEPS UNCERTAIN,

I’M NEW HERE AND I DON’T BELONG,

I WANT TO TURN BACK

AND NEVER COME HERE AGAIN,

BUT THE GRIP ON MY HAND IS FIRM,

TAKE MY HAND CHILD, THERE WON’T BE ANY PAIN.



THE SANDS OF TIME HAVE SINCE FLOWN PAST

THE HANDS OF THE CLOCKS HAVE TICKED

AND HERE WE ARE AGAIN.

PEOPLE TODAY TELL ME REMARKABLY LIKE YOU ,

IT MAKES ME BEAM WITH PRIDE,

IT’S ALL SO TRUE.

TAKE MY HAND ,GRANDFATHER

WE’LL WALK THE EXTRA MILE

AND DO ALL THE FUN THINGS

WE DID WHEN I WAS A CHILD.

SO,DON’T YOU WORRY ABOUT ME,

DON’T YOU EVER FRET,

I’M GROWING UP GRANDFATHER,

JUST YOU WAIT ,YET.

THE ARRIVAL OF SUMMER

IN THE WITHERING SPRING BLOSSOMS,

IN THE SILENTLY CREEPING HEAT,

YOU FEEL THE SUNS’ BURNING FINGERS

ABOUT THE THROAT



THE WIND AND ITS’ ENTIRE FLEET,

BOWS BEFORE THE SUN LORD;

AND IN THE TRENCHES OF THE FIRE-SAND,

TRUDGING ALONG IS THE ONLY WAY OUT





HE WHO STANDS HIGH AND TALL,

IS MERCILESSLY WHIPPED WITH

RODS OF THE SUN- INTENSE AND HARSH,

TILL THE MOUNTS’ BACK ACHES

AND HE

LONGS FOR THE BELLY OF THE SEA.





AND THEN THE NIGHT CASCADES,

ALL HARSHNESS OF THE SUN FADES,

BEING SOOTHENED AND CARESSED

BY THE CALM, GENTLE WIND

IS THE ONLY THOUGHT IN THE WORLD.

THE HORRORS OF SUMMER WILL BE HERE,

RELIVED AGAIN AND AGAIN,

BECAUSE NOW SUMMER IS BACK AGAIN.

IF I COULD BE THE WIND

If i could be the wind,


I would fly away somewhere far

A world without any pain

Over the valleys of flowers blooming year round

Over fields of wheat.

Make them dance in my name ..



If i could be the wind,

I would laugh out loud.,

And play hide and seek with the clouds,

Sing with my mouth wide open..,

No making anymore diminutive sounds



If i could be the wind,

I would play long hours in the water..,

With sprays of the ocean

Wetting my hair,

I would kiss the sleeping mountains

And then run before they woke up..,

I would let the rain wet my cheeks ..

And dance in sheer glee..



If i could be the wind ..,

I would sit still for hours..,

Watching the sun snore beneath the sea.,

I would sneak onto someone’s terrace..,

To play with their kites..

If i could be the wind..,

I would play-wrestle with my brother breeze,

And together we’d run in full meadows ,

Joyous and never wanting to stop.,

We’d tickle the baby ferns –just to see them sway like that ,

And gurgle with the nearby brook ,

We’d watch over baby birds , as they make their

First steps in a world unknown...

If i could be the wind,

I’d snore softly in bed of fronds..,

Till the world needed me again.



If i could be the wind...

FALLEN

A Peck on my cheek as you leave for work,


When I stay at home,

For the day.

A phone call in the evening

To say you’ll be home early

And lets’ go out somewhere,

Just you and me.

I smile a little to myself,

As I get off the phone

Alarmed, excited I think

I am falling in love with you.



I’ve had a long day at work,

And nothings’ gone right;

I reach home exhausted,

When you smile as you open the door

And suddenly everything’s alright.

Give me a back rub,

Listening to me as I pour my heart out

You tuck me into bed with a whispered goodnight,

And Baby,

I am falling in love with you.





It’s the ill-fated weekend,

Your mothers’ coming!

I’m frantic, anxious

Everything has to be just right.

Your amused smile

Takes my breath away

Your soothing voice

My worries

And as her car pulls up

You hold my hand…

It is then that I think,

Maybe I have fallen in love with you.



A Saturday night

And we’re at an office party

A pretty colleague

Approaches you and asks for a dance

I’m unaware of this,

Till a hand encircles my waist,

And suddenly I am dancing

I see your friend frustrated, upset

In askance I look up into your eyes

And as you hold me tighter in your arms

And softly whisper “always, only with you “

I realize then

Fully and completely,

Just how much I love you.

AWAY

On a cold,cold stone floor



Waiting as the seconds tick by


For the rush of death,that surely must come


All is still.


But surely,certainly


death must want Noise.










In the quiet,i will pray


In muted mind,heart,soul


Perhaps for the first time ¬---


Let her come quickly, i plead.










The smell of blood


Unadultered,


Falling drop by drop


and I lie


Just lie.






The cold metal of the scissors


Comforting beneath my fast fading palm


The stench of the gutters


Assailing my weakening senses


And I lie.


Just lie.






On the cold,cold floor


Near the nullah


In the wait for her arrival


Drop-drop


From my veins


Diluted,


Polluted


By the gushing , unclean water.


Atlast, she comes.


Slowly, hesitantly, takes uncertain steps


And i see her


She is sad to see me.






We have met before


“you should have gone on..”


She whispers, so i strain to hear


I smile,


So glad she has come to me.


She bends to me,


Taking me in her arms and


Together,


We fly


Away


Away.

CHIMES

The nursery lies empty



As can be seen through the broken window


The cradle lonely,


The Barbies bereft,


And the chimes cry softly in the soothing wind …


A girl lived here once


Laughed and played


A lifetime ago it seems


For there is nothing but an echo


Of the era gone by






A little bear in the corner


Stares now


You can see the pain


In its lonely eyes


Something missing here it says,


Something gone before time.






Hush! Now, can you hear?


That faint gurgle of a happy child


Listen very carefully, like I do


Can you not hear?


A fading, tinkling sound...


Of a shiny new bicycle perhaps?


And now it is all quiet


All that is left


Is the painful resonance of a silent room.






I live with memories fragile,


Of a grassy meadow underneath puffy clouds


Running with her, and her colourful kite


Of a smiling young face


Lost somewhere to a sleeping angel


Of her sucking her thumb,


Tucked to sleep each night


But my memory is sieve


Struggles to hold


What I want to keep,


Tears well up, fall and don’t stop


Standing in the nursery that failed to keep her here,


And the chimes wail softly in the gentle wind,


Its wails die down,


Slowly,


Slowly,


Slowly…