May 2020: Bidding it goodbye with photos of Gulmohar and #Poetry

Dear Readers,

I hope you've been well.

May, of the year 2020, like many things we took for granted all our lives, was unusual. Perhaps, 'new normal' is a better phrase to describe May this year.

Doha, as you know, gets very, very hot as May approaches. So, for a vagabond soul like mine, it's imperative that I step outside the confines of what I call home for a walk before the sun gets too hot. Walks are my oxygen. And in order to survive, I don't mind waking up at twenty past four in the morning just so that I can start my day on my terms.

Going for long walks (alone) always centres me, stills me and very often these walks plant ideas for new writing: poems and stories, musings and memories. 

Clicking photos is another hobby that keeps me grounded in the present moment. 

Morning walks are my kind of mindfulness: 
every step 
every breath 
every fallen leaf or petal 
every discarded scrap of metal
reminds me 
of the precious gift of this very moment
when I can go on my morning walk
and pay attention 
to
every chirp
every bird
every fallen feather 
in this humid weather
a car that zooms past
and calls to prayer that blast
through the newborn sky
remind me
of the precious gift of this very moment
when I can go on my morning walk
and pay attention
to
the splendour of slowly erupting lava of the Gulmohar tree
who stands by the roadside
Flamboyant, Resplendent and Free
Come with me
I've gathered a few fallen petals
some colours, 
some photos
and words
that got woven into some form of poetry.

May will be gone tomorrow
This much I know.
I'll set my alarm for twenty past four
so I may walk out of my front door 
to welcome June
who'll be wondering
why all the roads and walking tracks 
are so clean
of human feet and shadows
I'll keep him company for a bit
so I may welcome June
while masking my mouth and nose
and 
absolutely, no shaking of hands, of course.
I'll just nod
and carry on
Dear June, 
welcome to Twenty, Twenty

**********

All the photos shared were taken this week:

For all those who can understand Hindi, a poetry recital to bid May goodbye....

Wishing you all good health, happy hearts and blue skies.
xx

Tagore's Birthday and Flowers of Neem with a dash of #Hindi Poetry

When on Thursday morn, I sat outside

under our neem tree 

with a beautiful book 

and a cup of chai, 

I didn't know it was Tagore's birthday. 

The fragrant blooms of neem were busy 

dropping off its branches and carpeting 

the mat, the book and me. 

A few even plopped into my tea! 

There was something beautiful about that moment. 

I started scribbling a few lines and before I knew it, 

I was typing out an Insta post of poetry. 

The friend whose book it is, called a couple of hours later to say

it was Buddha Purnima that day.

And she added that the 7th of May

is also Rabindra Nath Tagore's birthday. 

O! how co-incidental, I thought.

I had to share that which I wrote, I thought.

A few lines-

I'll call them poetry

Just because:)

They're in Hindi

Yes, that which I wrote.

The title is not.

It's called Flowers of Neem

A translation I feel

will not bring out the flavour

of feelings that only Hindi can reveal

you see there are things:

subtle and sublime;

long lost yet found

ethereal yet ground

almost like water vapour

which one can only savour

in ones own mother tongue

or perhaps--

I am just a rubbish translator!

So, for the readers of English who visit,

I have shared a bit

of Moon inspired lines

plus

some ideas to dine

with an easy recipe of rasam.

You'll find it all after this poem

recited in a voice that is mine:)

A recital: Neem ke Phool

नीम की फुलझढ़ियों
की बेफ़िक्री देखिए
कभी Tagore से उभरती हैं
तो कभी चाय की चुस्कियाँ में डूब जाती हैं

नज़ारा कुछ ऐसा है आज चटाई का
कि बिखर बिखर के वो नादान
सेज सजाऐ जाती हैं
और इंतज़ार की एक मीठी सी
धुन गुनगुनाऐ जाती हैं

पर कोई इन डालियों से पूछे
सबर का सिला
एक मुद्त का इंतज़ार
और फिर बहार
वो भी बस पल भर की
मालूम नहीं मुझे कि वो
किस तरह
अपने सभी फूल नयौछावर कर
धूप के आँगन में खिलखिलाऐ जाती हैं

शायद मुझसे ज़्यादा सयानी हैं
नीम की डालियाँ
वो जानती हैं
अपने फूलों की फ़ितरत
बिखरने के लिए ही तो खिलते हैं वो

--आरती 

The Moon was not yet high

not yet full in the sky.

She was taking time to dress

in her evanescence. 

If lines scribbled in notebooks

could rise and rustle up dishes,

I'd sit waiting for Moon forever

and build delicious dinner castle wishes

in my head and tell the husband to imagine it all with me

but sadly none of that

was going to happen on my mat

under the neem tree.

So, onward to the kitchen I proceeded with my powers

to turn into scrumptious my basket of recently dried neem flowers.

A quick google search was all it took

and a rummage in many a nook

to find all the essentials to cook

dinner of rasam with rice:

jaggery, tamarind and ghee,

plus curry leaves on sprigs that had been picked already

from the tree that grows past my kitchen door

next to the forest of Canna Lily.

Curry Tree and Canna Lily

The fragrance of flowers of neem,

when they turn golden in molten ghee

over a slow flame 

is no less magical than a Moon that is full and supreme.

Rasam dark of tamarind and jaggery,

 boiled and bubbled rather properly.

 I tempered it with hing, chillies and mustard.

"Dinner's ready!" I hollered

'Twas a feast to tingle all taste buds:

sour, sweet, hot, bitter and salty.

I'm told this rasam has many a medicinal quality.

The husband and I:

we went for a walk after 

with our masks on and taking all precautions that matter.

Moon was full and strong

and shone brightly all along

the streets, the houses, the cats and the giant dustbins

 of Doha.

And when our walk was done,

we got back:

washed hands;

 sanitised door knob, inches touched and every other centimetre

while Moon,

shining through the paper blind 

of our bedroom window,

whispered,

"Aloha"

***********

As promised, here's the link to an easy recipe:

 Neem Flower Rasam

What follows is a photo gallery 

of the flower 

of the hour

with four simple steps to follow if you have a neem tree flowering in your vicinity.

Step 1: Harvest the flowers

Step 2: Wash the flowers

 Step 3: Dry the flowers: spread out on a kitchen towel and find a sunny spot. Keep covered with muslin cloth to avoid dust

Step 4: Store in an airtight tin or jar

Have a lovely, wholesome, sunshiny and fragrant weekend y'all.
Eat healthy and keep safe and smile and read poetry or dance or just hop like a sparrow 
Do whatever tickles your fancy.
But be kind to yourself; for you see--
 there's only one of you in this world: near and far
xx

नारी

Click here to listen to my recital of the poem.

मांग
बिंदी
नथ
अधर

कंठ
स्तन
नाभि
गर्भ

नारी:
सम्पूर्ण एवं सम्पन्न
न ज़्यादा, न कम

अर्धनारीश्वर - एक
नर + नारी  -  एक
यानि
१/२ और १/२ बना एक

एक के हर अंश में एक
चौथाई  हो या अनेक

इन्ही अंशों का मेला है यह सृष्टि 
और 
इस सृष्टि की अर्ध-भागीदारी:
नारी

न ज़्यादा, न कम 
सम्पूर्ण एवं सक्षम
न सिर्फ आज
न सिर्फ कल
परन्तु
आदि  से 
अनंत तक

एक धरा 
एक अम्बर
एक ब्रह्माण्ड 
एक लौ
सूरज की
जिसमें रौशन मैं
उसी में रौशन तुम

न ज़्यादा, न कम 
सम्पूर्ण एवं सक्षम
न सिर्फ आज
न सिर्फ एक दिन
परन्तु
आदि  से 
अनंत तक

चोला है
बस--
नर का
नारी का
दिल
धड़कन
सांसे
सपने
सब एक जैसे हैं

न ज़्यादा, न कम 
सम्पूर्ण एवं सक्षम
न सिर्फ आज
न सिर्फ एक दिन
परन्तु
आदि  से 
अनंत तक

हर पल, हर दिवस, हर युग
एक ही चाह लिए उगता है
एक ही राह तकता है
बिंदु मात्र संतुलन की 

न ज़्यादा, न कम
न केवल आज
न सिर्फ कल
परन्तु
आदि से 
अन्नंत तक

नर 
नारी
धरा 
अम्बर

नमो: नमो:

नमो: नमो:

Kagaz aur Kalam ( Pen on Paper: a poem in Hindi)

अरसे बाद आज काग़ज़ पर कलम आ रही है ।
विषृाम लगाया है आज बड़े बरसों के बाद ।
मुद्दतें बीतीं हिंदी लिखे --
माताृऐं मुशकिल में डाल रही हैं ।
जानती हूं खिचड़ीनुमा है शब्दकोष मेरा,

पर  Pilot  की नोक पन्ने पर यूं इतरा रही है

अरसे बाद आज काग़ज़ पर कलम आ रही है ।

याद आ रहे हैं वो fountain pen,
वो Waterman की शीशी, Royal Blue वाली...
और वो ink eraser जो उन दिनों rubber कहलाया करता था...
दाग़ कम, पन्ना ज़्यादा मिटाया करता था
शायद कुछ आजकल की राजनीति की तरह !
पर  Pilot  की nib पन्ने पर यूं इतरा रही है
चूंकि अरसे बाद आज काग़ज़ पर कलम आ रही है ।

याद हैं तुम्हें वो ink spots?
और वो blotting paper के चौकौर टुकड़े?
कितनी आसानी से छोटे-बड़े दाग़ मिटा देते थे वो ...
हमारी नादान ग़लतियों का विष चुपचाप पी जाते थे वो ।
 Keyboards की इस दुनिया में,
कहां से लाइगा ऐसे नीलकण्ठी blotting paper?
जो दिलों में भभकती इस intolerance की स्याही फो भस्म कर दें ।
Us और them की दूरियों में उलझ कर हताश हो रही है Pilot की nib,
क्यूंकि अरसे बाद उठी ये कलम, काग़ज़ पर आने से घबरा रही है शायद॥