This message was sent to me by someone who came into my life as a miracle! The story goes back to the eighties of the last century.
A colleague in the company I was working for then was posted in Hyderabad where I had deep roots. I had become friends with him and his wife then but, by the time the nineties arrived, both of us had left the company, I to move to Pune where I have been living since then and he to emigrate to Australia where he has been living since then.
We had lost touch with each other till the early part of this century when thanks to their visiting another mutual friend and colleague in India, we got back in touch with each other and had been exchanging mails and communicating through the facebook/whatsapp etc since then. When both had come to visit their family in Mumbai a few years ago, I had even driven up to meet with them there.
In Australia, they were in touch with another lady from Hyderabad who too was introduced to me by these Australian friends. That lady in turn turned out to be the wife of the son of some dear family friends in Tamil Nadu. Both of them and their lovely daughter visited me in Pune a few years ago too.
That lady Malathi, recommended that I buy and read a book of poetry by her friend and that is how I came to know this author, who too has become friends over the net since I wrote the blog post reviewing her book in this 2014 blog post of mine. The author has been a web friend since then!
Among all the people who feature in this post, the author is the only one that I have not met personally and I hope that another miracle will happen and I will get to meet her too.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost.
I have suggested this week’s topic. You can see what the other writers of the LBC have to say in their respective blogs. Maria, Pravin, Ashok and Shackman.
This is the first time ever that I bought and read a book of poems. I have always been a prose person reading both fiction and non-fiction and since the last few years more of the latter. I need to thank a friend Malathi, for putting me in touch with this genre. Having exposed myself to it I hope to read more of poetry.
The writer of this clearly delineated, two part anthology of poems aptly named Silent Screams, is a University Professor of English literature and this collection of her poems have been written over many years. The poems are all women-centric.
The poet captures moments as experienced by others but, observed by her and coats them with a veil of fiction. The women break rules and are quite daring. I have serious doubts that the author in real life is like that and therefore conclude that it is not autobiographical. The poet skillfully takes the reader under the skin of the protagonists. I suppose that poetry is meant to do that!
The women are shown fighting back against injustice so often heaped upon them. They do not indulge in self-pity. The subject of marital sex is handled with extraordinary sensitivity showing that sex within a marriage with no love involved is not acceptable. There also lonely souls in search of love for love’s sake who feel exhilarated on finding a little love even from strangers.
A couple of eerie dreamlike poems complete the first part.
Part II is a story told in verse form of a personality going back to previous births. The poet informs us that she was inspired to write this while in a trance after she had attended a regression session.
All in all, a book worth buying and savouring over many readings.
As my regular readers know, there is an interesting discussion going on in my earlier post of A Father’s Tribute To Another.
As it inevitably happens to me, I was led to this amazing article by Stefany Anne Golberg In the Smart Set.
The poem “Do not go gentle into that good night” and Dylan Thomas are often quoted in various contexts, but this is the first time that I have read about the peculiar relationship between the poet and his father. The background provided is simply mind blowing.
I believe that this article is worth weight in gold.
Kiss Of The Muse by Paul Cezanne.
I recently had to locate a relevant quote for an important communication, and luckily remembered this old poem. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I did revisiting and using it for a very noble purpose.
HIGH is our calling, Friend!–Creative Art
(Whether the instrument of words she use,
Or pencil pregnant with ethereal hues,)
Demands the service of a mind and heart,
Though sensitive, yet, in their weakest part,
Heroically fashioned–to infuse
Faith in the whispers of the lonely Muse,
While the whole world seems adverse to desert.
And, oh! when Nature sinks, as oft she may,
Through long-lived pressure of obscure distress,
Still to be strenuous for the bright reward,
And in the soul admit of no decay,
Brook no continuance of weak-mindedness–
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
This photograph was sent to me by a friend who found it on the internet to illustrate a story that he wanted to convey to me. The story, for this post, is unimportant but the photograph caught my imagination. Whoever is the photographer, my compliments to him for this very effective way to convey how an Indian mausoleum looks from inside. There are many, particularly in the Northern parts of India and I am unable to figure out quite from which one this is. The most likely place is the Agra Fort.
I then searched for something suitable to post along with this post and found this wonderful poem at this blog.
“Shadow of Light”
Written in 2001 for no particular reason.
Despair’s the path of life I walk,
The shadows in which dwell
A goal I seek with all my heart –
Escape from any hell.
Fear and terror bar my way,
And darkness blinds my sight,
But all these things will flee before
The shadow of a light.
The journey’s rife with sorrow… pain…
At times it’s hard to cope…
But I’ll endure… search deeper still…
Where burns the flame of hope.