whisper

a small thankfulness spreads all over me
some days they weigh so heavy
i let it engulf me, surrender without voice
a quiet gratitude that settles me, rejuvenates...

nobody

my story so familiar, so utterly common place
the cries, the weeping, the wailing for my dead
all the homes i know reek with echoes of such pain
for those mutilated, raped, and dishonored and bled

rude history swept in and flooded my home
chased my dreams away while i stood small and dumb
i ran for my children, left all that i knew
a home, vain comforts, a lifetime rendered numb

wise ones exhorted us women "choose honor over life!"
heavy familial burdens bestowed on us to take
rooms of charred bodies, honorable heaps in the well
they never thought to ask whose choice was it to make

told us a dear new freedom was headed our way
but forgot in those slogans my name and my face
as i was being banished, being compelled to 'choose'
festivities marked the tryst with destiny's famed day

they said it was 'azaadi' for a 'svatantara' new land
demands just sacrifice from all, it was claimed
yet apparently when they came gouging for that rent
our heads were bartered for lines in political sands

a foreign lawyer who'd never set foot on my soil
inked new lines, lit them up and it was declared
clean cartographies created, summarily announced
ancestral homes, generations, lives? simply exchange!

books decoded new lines that severed all old ties
without asking me once how my own life was hacked
this "partition" was explained in historians' thesis
my truth came up trivial compared to those tracts

yet do you see those ties still shackle me today
the nightmares stay close, like wearying next of kin
every year you celebrate freedom -- yet i still burn
the wounds seethe and breathe just under my skin

i rebirthed you countless times, fenced every fear at bay
now will you ease my torment from this vicious history?
will you free my tale from mere domestic rants and tears?
do save your pity but not for me; acknowledge my story

don't let me leave here yet, unheard and unsung
expose unto sunlight my darkness, scars and guilt
don't choose to walk on by unmoved, unchanged
or history she'll come knocking, reigniting every sin!

--reena
august 15th 2013
...for my grandmother - and countless ones like her - who were forced to flee...and others who couldn't!


azaadi = independence/freedom in Urdu
svatantara (स्वतंत्र) = independent/free in Hindi

when she comes

sometimes she comes and perches on my shoulder

uninvited, demanding, screeching like a cloud

pushing my head down, making me hesitant on every move

making me hurt, easy to tears, inexplicable

unexpected this arrival, all her visits 

it's me and it is not really me

she comes and alights with no permission

she take me by storm, it is my invasion

i cover her, i push her, i try not to see her

i cannot even like her but i must forgive her 

all i feel is a helplessness, a loneliness i can't fathom

a breathless hold that's not mine but all mine

there is no reason for this but grief isn't fair

i am but an outcome of an existence that was given

perhaps i should embrace her and hold her as mine

and maybe if i hold tight i will stop her from hurting...


-reena
sometime 2013... i forget the date. she made me.

speed

Perhaps we try to fill it all up
To have markers showing we really where here
Little intents, moments we hurried through
Hoping speed, sheer grit will burn through the fear

Ground in our steps in a fool's certain march
Leaving shallow footprints we smugly displayed 
Even as we turned, hurried onto new roads
Winds blew, time flooded in, faded them away

Our breathless jottings of all that we saw
Our mad recounting of lists we crossed off
Miles we covered, turned to see if we missed any
Marking meaningless baubles, petty wars

But as we reached our maturing hour
If we were lucky our hands were warm
Only such loves that sustained with us
Had kept pace, walked steadily along

They said you'll not know how happy you turned out to be
And as I sit listening to the chimes that hum with me
I mark the uncounted: great loves, kind forgivers, steady rocks, true mirrors,
No other counter, nor currency could this life be measured in...

Reena
July 30, 2013

so many words

i sit here often thinking of what i want to say
show you my map of how it went awry
wasn't what i wanted or hoped for
but i slipped somehow in this exchange

so many questions but i lost the words
i walked confused, as if i imagined it
if you said you don't know what i could possibly mean
i'd take it as the truth, final and simple

not because i think you mean what you say
not because i understand your words or such meaning
not because i think i can talk through this
only because it's truer than you think

and because i have run out of words to reach you
perhaps too many words flowed without explanation
easy, too easy to put down, hit send
sell out what's real for daily dose of projection

time we wasted, even a lifetime who knows?
how i never at a loss for words or objection
never afraid to talk it through, work it out
found refuge in my losing exhaustion

then i think maybe they are right
those that say i think myself astray
too much introspection can be bad for you
i don't buy it but i swallow anyway

perhaps i can't talk because i've lost the argument
whatever it was i couldn't have won
i did not know where i stood or do now
sure this is best; lets you off ; no questions...

...

--reena
july 22 2013

thoughts on how two people can misread each other...even in this world of over-communication or perhaps because of it...we write a few words in an email and think we have truly shared our heart's condition...

aruna

this thanksgiving it will be one dozen wondrous years
since your gift, the miraculous one you gave
the one i laid claim to, yet she came to own me
the one that flowered into my being
grew roots deep, pervaded my soul, blossomed wide
a flourishing happiness for all my years

we brought her home and ours she was - this bundle of our hearts
long before we knew, somehow you knew how it would turn out
gave her to us, us to her, fates sealed with a grace and a blessing
and went about that morning like it was just another day
but i saw the tear, that self respect your sacred calling wrought
such a gentle touch that moved mountains, restored hearts

somehow today i searched for you even as i've known you're gone
i recalled the day we heard -- gone too soon, too soon, too soon!
a fear spread through my being, a panic this earth had slipped
such a wrong, a meaningless wrong hurled upon an oblivious world
who decided you had to go when scattered lives needed your hand?
how does this world go on when the maker of families is gone?

this paper talked about your words, brought back how you were
dignity in a relentless march with hope, unflinching aplomb
how you said "what WE can do for them..." as only you could have
i remember your scolding for me once when i dared to lose hope
"if you're feeling down and out, think how we go on"
shamed me to look up, stand up, brave & smiling there you were

so every time you cross my mind, and i see my beautiful one
my heart fills up so i can't speak, i cry to tell you what you were
you have been gone, the world is poor, the sky less blue since then
how will i ever repay this debt? ashes, memories draw a blank
that awful day i called and spoke to your daughter, i sobbed
"what your mother gave to me, now i can never repay..."

--reena
june 7th 2013
--------------------
for the amazing woman mrs. aruna kumar of Palna/ DCCW in Delhi who gave me and us so much and who i will never be able to repay... and for every person who has given me something, anything, i want to express my gratitude today, everyday.

when she went suddenly, unexpectedly in 2006 she was only 58 and left so many luckless ones who did not have the good fortune of crossing her path...

http://www.financialexpress.com/news/children-s-centre-turns-50/63419/0

ek din

छोटी सी खुशियाँ
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तो कभी मैं उनकी राह तकते वहीँ सो जाती हूँ

कभी हिचकिचाते हुए मेरे पहलू में आकर बैठ जातीं हैं
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जाने क्यूँ मुझसे शर्मा जातीं हैं ...