Thursday, September 07, 2017

Keepsake~

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Death was no concept for me
Till one night
a storm hit our home…and,
The whole world suddenly became cold… so cold.
My mother sat still
Watching
Her silence broke my twenty-five years of peace in that house.
I had no right to talk, nor to appeal, or to plead.
Baba was lying on a bed of blooms,
    tended by some of his loving hands,
The heady smell of the tuberoses,
     marigolds and sandalwood
Tossed the barque of life around me!
     It was the first death I saw …a real death...
A reality- a destiny that reminds you're a mortal. 
Even an unbeliever has to sit under it.
My heart rattled inside the rib cage.
All in a flux- I softly rose
Lit a lamp in front of my father,
  and squatted down beside Ma.
Ma’s hand brushed my face, it was cold.
Cold hands, silent as a safe, gently shivered,
    And perched on my shoulders.
How complete, how secured, how reassuring they were-
I looked up, clutching her palms, 
We stared at each other without speaking;
A muscle pulsed in her cheek…a little pearl trickled.
And both of us fell under the water’s thrust.
The night hardened ..; I realized,
Every nerve, every vein
Is a time bomb
Ticking slowly to its zero hour.
Memory is just a keepsake-


At my father's (Baba) death-bed, I learned what death looked like! 

In Hinduism, after death, the dead body is prepared for its funeral rites. The body is wrapped in white cloth (for men and widows) or red cloth (for married woman) and is showered with final offerings from loved ones.

http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.in/2017/09/poets-united-midweek-motif-memories.html

14 comments:

  1. Very strange that I thought of checking out your blog and found this as the latest update. Sometimes, writing can get so personal that one can no longer appreciate the poetry in it. :) Lost my Mom over a year back, and still struggle to come to terms with the complex emotion it evokes, even in the face of rational, scientific, perhaps even stoic thinking. Appreciate your sharing your thoughts in this post. All strength to you.

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  2. WOW! "The heady smell of the tuberoses,
    marigolds and sandalwood
    Tossed the barque of life around me!"
    and "A muscle pulsed in her cheek…a little pearl trickled.
    And both of us fell under the water’s thrust."
    Image after image takes me there. And yes, we are so mortal, everyone of us.

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  3. An incredibly beautiful capture of a moment in your life. Thank you for sharing this very personal experience. We are honored.

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  4. You've described so well the fragility we feel when we confront death.

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  5. It is an honour to read this poem, my friend. The little pearly trickling reminds me of the single tear going down my grandma's cheek as she lay dying........you paint this so clearly I can see you and your mother clearly. That moment when you realized we live with time bombs inside us is so powerful.

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  6. This is so moving "A muscle pulsed in her cheek…a little pearl trickled.
    And both of us fell under the water’s thrust." such delicate lines. Thanks for sharing this

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  7. Powerfully moving poem, Panchali. Your imagery is exquisite, i.e. 'Cold hands, silent as a safe, gently shivered,
    And perched on my shoulders.' and 'A muscle pulsed in her cheek…a little pearl trickled.
    And both of us fell under the water’s thrust.'

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  8. This is an incredible capture of a moment

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  9. This is absolutely wonderful, an incredible poem of love, life and death. What a fine piece of writing you have crafted here.

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  10. You took us there. The silence is palpable like the night which 'hardened'. Some breathtaking images are here: heady smell of flowers and sandalwood, a rattling heart, lamp being lit, trickling of a little pearl. beautiful, profound and overwhelming.

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  11. The heady smell of the tuberoses,
    marigolds and sandalwood
    Tossed the barque of life around me!

    Such an incredibly moving poem, Panchali!

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  12. You've employed all the senses in this beautiful tribute, Panchali. It's a moment so real we can touch it. Thank you for your very personal memories.

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  13. A beautiful and moving poem, Panchali. Thank you for sharing a memory so personal.

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