Hello lovely readers,
I hope you've been well.
It's 5:24 am. While waiting for the sky to lighten so I may go on my walk, I turn my laptop on. Two things happen simultaneously. A bird calls and my search bar states it's World Kindness Day.
What better day to break my long spell of absence, to mark my presence here in this sacred space than today? So here I am. Waving a howdy from spring-like Doha. There is, as always, a lot to share. Some ponderings, and a few celebrations. Grab a chai and a chair. Cosy? Let's go.
Recently, I came across a post by one of my favourite authors, Katrina Kenison and I thought I must share her beautiful words with friends and family. In her post, she talks about a line of poetry that became her solace. I googled the poem, read it. Loved it. It's Barbara Ras' You Can't Have It All
It's the 'but you can have...' thread that runs through the poem that resonated with me.
Just before I came upon the above post and poem, I was staring at another rejection mail (which read more like an acceptance-so gently was it worded). So that when I landed on the line--but you can have, something made me stop and look out the window. What followed was expected. I went outside, stretched out my arms and took a deep, deep breath in. Feet firmly planted on the threshold, I unfurled to all that I can have. In that split second, I sensed a shift. I can choose what I gaze upon- not in a bury-my-head-in-the-sand or head-in-the-clouds kind of way but rooted-in-reality, aware and grateful for the blessing of an ordinary day.
Autumn is in full bloom. The roses I had planted last year have survived the long, scorching summer. Unusually this year, I haven't yet found the time to visit the plant nurseries to restock on soil and saplings. So imagine my delight when, I spot not one, but two pink blooms, fragrant and ready to welcome November.
The more closely I look, the more joy unfolds. My fingertips reacquaint themselves with sprightly blooms of purple basil, the shy sprigs of holy basil, pluck some lemon grass, lime leaves and one or two jasmine flowers. A yellowing lime. There's usually a fistful to be picked. A gentle breeze. The chime dings. A black cat who's claimed ownership of our large jade pot, poses in repose, Cleopatra-isq, and waits to be clicked. An orchestra of bird-friends bursts forth--the bulbuls and the sparrows, the grey doves and the mynahs and even an occasional hoopoe bird frolic on neem, peepul and pink oleander. There are reminders of blunders I have made- the jasmine plant I over pruned, thanks to a YouTube video which promised a miraculous recovery if I followed instructions. A few fresh greens are sprouting on its erstwhile yellowed branches. I am both hopeful and not too sure if my jasmine will joust back.
Rejuvenated, I return to my desk.
This ekphrastic piece was published in the bilingual magazine, Setu in September. It's titled, This photograph is wrongly captioned
I'm thrilled to share that my poem, Silence will appear in the Yearbook of Indian Poetry (in English) 2024.
There's another acceptance that has come through. I'll wait for the publication next year before I share more.
So, despite the rejections, I can have a reader, like you, who'll rejoice with me in my happiness and be kind enough to spend time with my words and wonderings. Thank you dear reader for your kindness. I hope you'll find something here that brings your joy or resonates with you.
I'd love to know what your list of 'all that you can have' looks like.
Wishing you a fragrant day. Kindness is always possible :)
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