We are happy to present all the poems that have been sent for SHE COLLECTIVE’s art, poetry and affirmation event on March 19.
We feel warm and fuzzy that we have been able to meld Raintree Media’s publishing work with the Under the Raintree platform for the Arts and the SHE Collective, our social responsibility channel for women and children.
Eminent writer Poile Sengupta will recite her poems while artist Shan Re paints. The six best entries selected by Poile Sengupta and Sandhya Mendonca will be announced at the venue, and the poets would be invited to read. At this event, we would like to bring focus on safe havens for homeless young girls in Bengaluru, being provided by the Dream India Network.
A slap is enough,
To put her in her place.
A slap is enough,
There’ll be no marks on her face.
No one must know,
She’ll keep it in her chest.
while the deed was done with cheers.
She was made to plunge into an everlasting night,
before she could see her first sight.
The baby girl would have to go,
because the parents wanted a boy to show.
Straight from her mother’s womb,
she reaches her contemptible tomb.
Not regretted is this loss,
Like a waste paper napkin to toss
O Mother India, arise,
and open your children’s eyes!
Though pain and crushed hope have left an icy chill;
And ruthlessly I still the quaver in my voice
When, as a daughter, I have to rejoice.
Each teardrop tells a story
as night rolls in and empty space beckons; without warmth or glory;
But as rays of sun tell of the approaching dawn
I smile and venture forth; as a mother I cannot mourn.
Through each day, thoughts stray and wander
Recalling dreams that died and fell asunder;
But how can I just bare the soul
For I’m a woman and that’s my role
So tall I stand to face the wind
That threatens to uproot me and rescind.
But, having weathered many a storm, I’m shaped, I’m worn
Strong and resilient, yet a much gentler form.
ज़ालिम को मुंसिफ़ बनाया है मैंने
इल्ज़ाम लगाकर इंसाफ़ करेगा मेरा
दीवानो की फ़ितरत ही कुछ ऐसी है
मुंतज़िर है वो इंसाफ़ का तेरा
मोहब्बत को क़ाबिलियत मेरी क़ुबूल नहीं
मोहब्बत की चाहत का मैं क़ाबिल नहीं
इसी तरह लड़खड़ाती हुई ज़िंदगी को
ढोते घसीटते दम निकल रहा है मेरा
ज़ालिम दुनियाने निकाले है ख़ून के आँसू मेरे
वही आँसू से सजायी है इस नज़्म को मैंने
सुभानल्लाह सुभानल्लाह करेगी यह दुनिया तेरी
फिर ख़ून के आँसू रुलाएगी यह दुनिया तेरी
ग़ैरों से जीत हासिल की है हमने हर दम
कभी दोस्ती से तो कभी दुश्मनी से
अपनो की मोहब्बत से मात खायी है हमने
ना दोस्ती से ना दुश्मनी से
दम गर मेरा टूट भी जाए तो ग़म ना करना
बिखरी हुई ज़िंदगी को तुम सम्भालना समेटना
मैं था, अब नहीं हूँ उसका सुकर अदा करना
और फ़ौरन तुम मुझे भूलकर आगे निकल जाना
Come, let me pick you up
from the morass of wretched apathy;
Lift you, just a bag of bones
onto my maternal lap,
Peel away your torn and tattered rags,
Feel the parchment thin skin
barely covering your ribs,
jutting out and grazing my palms
as I run them gingerly
over your clogged-up pores;
I bathe away the stink and stench
of filthy pavements and open gutters
to reveal open, bleeding sores;
Come, let me apply balm
on your wounds,
and sing a psalm
for your wounded soul.
Come, let me hold
a glass of clean water
to your cracked, parched lips,
Feed a mouthful of gruel
into your toothless mouth
which has forgotten
what it is to be fed;
Feel it go chokingly
through your throat
and reach jerkily
into your concave belly
which has forgotten
its last meal.
Come, let me wipe your eyes encrusted,
tightly closed against cruelty,
And open them once, just once,
to see that even if
humanity has forsaken you,
there is still one human who cares.
When you leave this wretched world,
my arms will convey you directly
to the welcoming arms of God.
Come, look into the eyes of Love,
The eyes of a Godmother,
Before you close your eyes
and open them to look into God's eyes;
You, the Son of God,
Pieta draped on my lap,
Look into eyes
dripping with piety.
She had to fight hands that groped and scarred She had to fight hands that clawed and marred
She had to fight hands that prayed for bounties absurd
We feel warm and fuzzy that we have been able to meld Raintree Media’s publishing work with the Under the Raintree platform for the Arts and the SHE Collective, our social responsibility channel for women and children.
Eminent writer Poile Sengupta will recite her poems while artist Shan Re paints. The six best entries selected by Poile Sengupta and Sandhya Mendonca will be announced at the venue, and the poets would be invited to read. At this event, we would like to bring focus on safe havens for homeless young girls in Bengaluru, being provided by the Dream India Network.
On display are sculptures by Romicon Revola, upcoming sculptor, charcoal sketches by Mini Naidoo and ingenious art by Sindhu Jois, a student of Chitrakala Parishat, apart from a selection of Shan Re’s artworks. We have a selection of books to browse through too.
We welcome you warmly to a morning of affirmation and friendship at Casa Cottage, Clapham Street, Richmond Road tomorrow at 10.30 am.
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| A TWIST IN THE TALE ~ Antra Bhargava |
A slap is enough,
To put her in her place.
A slap is enough,
There’ll be no marks on her face.
No one must know,
She’ll keep it in her chest.
I own her, she must obey,
After all, I know best.
Like it or not, It’s my right.
She’ll never put up a fight.
.............
I made a fist, for the first time today.
I felt my voice rise, for the first time today.
The anger in my head exploded,
The fear and pain went poof.
I felt power surge through my veins,
For the first time today.
I sent my arm flying,
Right through his nose.
I saw him surprised,
For the first time today.
After all, I know best.
Like it or not, It’s my right.
She’ll never put up a fight.
.............
I made a fist, for the first time today.
I felt my voice rise, for the first time today.
The anger in my head exploded,
The fear and pain went poof.
I felt power surge through my veins,
For the first time today.
I sent my arm flying,
Right through his nose.
I saw him surprised,
For the first time today.
Avala Payana ~ Dr Elizabeth Cherian
Destiny - Thy name is Woman ~ Dr Elizabeth Cherian ParameshA little angel so blessed with beauty unmatched She won hearts and brought smiles As she grew up she knew she had to traverse miles and miles Before she blossomed to be the lady so dainty that she was She loved ,she lived and gave her all To family, friends and every form of life around She tread the rugged terrains with ease Every step was a mystery unravelled Time... Now the strides were getting slow Her feet tired and steps faltered She had walked the path long and far She heard the stream only when she was very close No hand to hold nor to egg her on She went along the pathways familiar by now She accomplished only few of her daily goals Sometimes missing the way on the lonely journey Her frame grew frail and vision hazy She longed to be held and none cared The familiar sights and smells seemed lost on her Is the end anywhere near? |
Gone Before the First Cry ~ Shivani Gowda, Dec 2013, Age 10
The mother's cries were heard by deaf ears,while the deed was done with cheers.
She was made to plunge into an everlasting night,
before she could see her first sight.
The baby girl would have to go,
because the parents wanted a boy to show.
Straight from her mother’s womb,
she reaches her contemptible tomb.
Not regretted is this loss,
Like a waste paper napkin to toss
O Mother India, arise,
and open your children’s eyes!
I am a Woman ~ Zarine Kharas
I tell the heart to be stillThough pain and crushed hope have left an icy chill;
And ruthlessly I still the quaver in my voice
When, as a daughter, I have to rejoice.
Each teardrop tells a story
as night rolls in and empty space beckons; without warmth or glory;
But as rays of sun tell of the approaching dawn
I smile and venture forth; as a mother I cannot mourn.
Through each day, thoughts stray and wander
Recalling dreams that died and fell asunder;
But how can I just bare the soul
For I’m a woman and that’s my role
So tall I stand to face the wind
That threatens to uproot me and rescind.
But, having weathered many a storm, I’m shaped, I’m worn
Strong and resilient, yet a much gentler form.
Intensity of Love (Shiddat-e-mohabbat) ~ Musten Jiruwala
ज़ालिम को मुंसिफ़ बनाया है मैंने
इल्ज़ाम लगाकर इंसाफ़ करेगा मेरा
दीवानो की फ़ितरत ही कुछ ऐसी है
मुंतज़िर है वो इंसाफ़ का तेरा
मोहब्बत को क़ाबिलियत मेरी क़ुबूल नहीं
मोहब्बत की चाहत का मैं क़ाबिल नहीं
इसी तरह लड़खड़ाती हुई ज़िंदगी को
ढोते घसीटते दम निकल रहा है मेरा
ज़ालिम दुनियाने निकाले है ख़ून के आँसू मेरे
वही आँसू से सजायी है इस नज़्म को मैंने
सुभानल्लाह सुभानल्लाह करेगी यह दुनिया तेरी
फिर ख़ून के आँसू रुलाएगी यह दुनिया तेरी
ग़ैरों से जीत हासिल की है हमने हर दम
कभी दोस्ती से तो कभी दुश्मनी से
अपनो की मोहब्बत से मात खायी है हमने
ना दोस्ती से ना दुश्मनी से
दम गर मेरा टूट भी जाए तो ग़म ना करना
बिखरी हुई ज़िंदगी को तुम सम्भालना समेटना
मैं था, अब नहीं हूँ उसका सुकर अदा करना
और फ़ौरन तुम मुझे भूलकर आगे निकल जाना
PIETA [Ode to Mother Teresa]~ Mini Naidoo
Come, let me pick you up
from the morass of wretched apathy;
Lift you, just a bag of bones
onto my maternal lap,
Peel away your torn and tattered rags,
Feel the parchment thin skin
barely covering your ribs,
jutting out and grazing my palms
as I run them gingerly
over your clogged-up pores;
I bathe away the stink and stench
of filthy pavements and open gutters
to reveal open, bleeding sores;
Come, let me apply balm
on your wounds,
and sing a psalm
for your wounded soul.
Come, let me hold
a glass of clean water
to your cracked, parched lips,
Feed a mouthful of gruel
into your toothless mouth
which has forgotten
what it is to be fed;
Feel it go chokingly
through your throat
and reach jerkily
into your concave belly
which has forgotten
its last meal.
Come, let me wipe your eyes encrusted,
tightly closed against cruelty,
And open them once, just once,
to see that even if
humanity has forsaken you,
there is still one human who cares.
When you leave this wretched world,
my arms will convey you directly
to the welcoming arms of God.
Come, look into the eyes of Love,
The eyes of a Godmother,
Before you close your eyes
and open them to look into God's eyes;
You, the Son of God,
Pieta draped on my lap,
Look into eyes
dripping with piety.
She ~ Vasumathi Rao
Even as a speck in the Ocean of LifeShe had to fight hands that groped and scarred She had to fight hands that clawed and marred
She had to fight hands that prayed for bounties absurd
She had to fight hands that granted sons unperturbed
She had to wait for leftovers off her little brother's plate
She had to wait for her place in sun hanging unto arms of Fate
She had to be better than the best, for anything less
She would be the butt of jest , ridiculed and a mess
She had to move out from the home of her childhood
She had to silently endure the ridiculing of her womanhood
She had to bear the burden of the man made barren dessert
She had to break free of shackles and chains and assert
That She would in her heart mother a girl in the Ocean of Life!
The fall of water on my being ~ Devika Thukral
The fall of water on my being,
My inner self,
I am all of these and more...
Inner light
Kali
Power Struggles
Lakshmi
Softness
Parvati
Strength
Durga
Motherhood
Yashoda
Miracle
Mother Mary
Compassion
Mother Teresa
So many facets, so many different views,
I am a woman
a woman is in me
under twisted trees
under a moon floating above drifting clouds,
in pelting rain, in howling storms,
through plagues and pestilences, and wars and droughts
where rotting corpses pile up to the skies,
in those desolate days, in careless sunny days,
when our cup spills joy and our laughing mouths ache,
in the blind fire of lust, in the divine ecstasy of life,
in the soft arms of angels, in the forgiving lap of God,
in the curse of daily routine
I will love you.
and many thousand years later,
after my body is long dead and gone
and my ashes become soil
and the soil becomes grass
and cattle devour the grass
and men devour the cattle
and die and become grass
and a billion more eons pass
until the sun’s final flare is spent
and all is cold and dark and lifeless
I will still love you.
You, my half-remembered song:
I can only hum the melody
While its lyrics keep slipping by.
You, my incomplete painting:
I wish to finish but confused
My touch may disfigure your portrait.
You, my unborn utopian verse:
I can’t conceive my virgin thoughts
For they seem too tender to bear the burden.
Still, haunted by your
Vaguely elusive angelic beauty,
I daydream you in my nightmares.
Perhaps,
You seem to remain in me forever
Just a dream - too good to be true.
My inner self,
I am all of these and more...
Inner light
Kali
Power Struggles
Lakshmi
Softness
Parvati
Strength
Durga
Motherhood
Yashoda
Miracle
Mother Mary
Compassion
Mother Teresa
So many facets, so many different views,
I am a woman
a woman is in me
The Self ~ Anees Zehra Husain
The self cannot be encapsulated in a verse or book
To achieve thus, a lifetime of travails of the Masters it took
One has to imbibe, seek, follow and not merely look
Search , search deep within You, not found in any
Mountain, sea shore cranny or nook
To achieve this one must constantly battle the mind
For the evils attached to in it strange and dangerous zones
Ourselves will find
Hence seek the solitude and peace within your heart
By seeking refuge wherein Paradise lies , the negatives
Of the mind will die and depart
Cannot just be spoken of but to action every word,
Thought and deed
Like The Great Masters, hence focus on the heart
For in it lies the good seed of which is borne the
the fruit bearing and shade giving tree
To achieve thus, a lifetime of travails of the Masters it took
One has to imbibe, seek, follow and not merely look
Search , search deep within You, not found in any
Mountain, sea shore cranny or nook
To achieve this one must constantly battle the mind
For the evils attached to in it strange and dangerous zones
Ourselves will find
Hence seek the solitude and peace within your heart
By seeking refuge wherein Paradise lies , the negatives
Of the mind will die and depart
Cannot just be spoken of but to action every word,
Thought and deed
Like The Great Masters, hence focus on the heart
For in it lies the good seed of which is borne the
the fruit bearing and shade giving tree
Valentine’s verse ~ Deepak Joshi
under twisted trees
under a moon floating above drifting clouds,
in pelting rain, in howling storms,
through plagues and pestilences, and wars and droughts
where rotting corpses pile up to the skies,
in those desolate days, in careless sunny days,
when our cup spills joy and our laughing mouths ache,
in the blind fire of lust, in the divine ecstasy of life,
in the soft arms of angels, in the forgiving lap of God,
in the curse of daily routine
I will love you.
and many thousand years later,
after my body is long dead and gone
and my ashes become soil
and the soil becomes grass
and cattle devour the grass
and men devour the cattle
and die and become grass
and a billion more eons pass
until the sun’s final flare is spent
and all is cold and dark and lifeless
I will still love you.
.
Varadakshine Viruddha ~ BK Saroja
Woman ~ Meghana Gaonkar
There's many stories of her love but remain the heart of it the same.
Cannot bring it to senses or the unmistakable tame.
Call her madness..call her a bundle of dancing flame.Shall this rapture you ..shall that bring you to a mystical solved game.
Of beauty for the love that will always shineShe is pain, she is insane, she is as strong as there could be a thundering rain. Lots to complain, where there's everything to gain, she is a song you cannot explain.
Beyond all the shades of age & timeRivered forever pristine and thineAll words spoken have the same whirling divine
All things heart, all things gold, all things lifeAll the stories toldShe will be her, indescribable joy. Be it unconditional unassuming irrevocable her soul.
Call her love. Call her life. Without a she, we cannot be.
Celebrate her life, celebrate her cajolery and all that glory
With just her and her who make it an incredible being a woman journey.
Proud as a tree, She. Me. We. Be.
Cannot bring it to senses or the unmistakable tame.
Call her madness..call her a bundle of dancing flame.Shall this rapture you ..shall that bring you to a mystical solved game.
Of beauty for the love that will always shineShe is pain, she is insane, she is as strong as there could be a thundering rain. Lots to complain, where there's everything to gain, she is a song you cannot explain.
Beyond all the shades of age & timeRivered forever pristine and thineAll words spoken have the same whirling divine
All things heart, all things gold, all things lifeAll the stories toldShe will be her, indescribable joy. Be it unconditional unassuming irrevocable her soul.
Call her love. Call her life. Without a she, we cannot be.
You - by Guthi Jambunath
You, my half-remembered song:
I can only hum the melody
While its lyrics keep slipping by.
You, my incomplete painting:
I wish to finish but confused
My touch may disfigure your portrait.
You, my unborn utopian verse:
I can’t conceive my virgin thoughts
For they seem too tender to bear the burden.
Still, haunted by your
Vaguely elusive angelic beauty,
I daydream you in my nightmares.
Perhaps,
You seem to remain in me forever
Just a dream - too good to be true.
