Mother’s Instructions To A Daughter Who Wishes to Write

I must show a raw interest

in birds and bees, flowers and trees;

I must smell the fragrance of laughter

and be ready to sip at intervals, be ready

to lick the gentle rain that often

gets trapped in the stammering

banana stalks, never feel offended

by the neighbour’s dog and his ghoulish bark.

I must be always ready to pull

and prod my mother’s tongue

like the mushy earth

and let it blossom with curses

broad as sequins, much in vogue.

I must burn litanies of silence

and let the trees speak

in a dialect with no sighs of green.

I must be ready to wait

for the spring to churn sorrows

into tales of celebration

and welcome each spray of autumn

without doubts and discomfort.

I must be the garden that seeks

consolation in the grass that

turns brown and is then burnt

without a sound.

I must bear the burden of script

stain it with the mother’s milk

and let her blood seep through my pen.

As for tears I must

I must garnish them with

tiny drops of honey;

if my kitchen is empty

steal it from the neighbour’s garden

and let the bees hum with surprise.

 

 

Ref - Cha: An Asian Literary Journal

I must show a raw interest

in birds and bees, flowers and trees;

I must smell the fragrance of laughter

and be ready to sip at intervals, be ready

to lick the gentle rain that often

gets trapped in the stammering

banana stalks, never feel offended

by the neighbour’s dog and his ghoulish bark.

I must be always ready to pull

and prod my mother’s tongue

like the mushy earth

and let it blossom with curses

broad as sequins, much in vogue.

I must burn litanies of silence

and let the trees speak

in a dialect with no sighs of green.

I must be ready to wait

for the spring to churn sorrows

into tales of celebration

and welcome each spray of autumn

without doubts and discomfort.

I must be the garden that seeks

consolation in the grass that

turns brown and is then burnt

without a sound.

I must bear the burden of script

stain it with the mother’s milk

and let her blood seep through my pen.

As for tears I must

I must garnish them with

tiny drops of honey;

if my kitchen is empty

steal it from the neighbour’s garden

and let the bees hum with surprise.

 

 

Ref - Cha: An Asian Literary Journal


Latest News

  • The Fiction of Margaret Drabble and Anita Desai +

    The Fiction Of Margaret Drabble and Anita Desai Publisher: Creative Books, New Delhi; 2000. ISBN: 81-86318-75-5 Book Summary This book Read More
  • December Poems +

    December Poems : A Soul-Soothing Feel - by Bhaskaranand Jha Bhaskar December Poems by Ranu Uniyal, Witers Workshop (Kolkata), 2012,ISBN 978-93-5045-028-4, Rs. Read More
  • Across The Divide +

    KALA KRISHNAN RAMESH While Suckling Eve is let down by the quality of translation, Across the Divide shows the definite Read More
  • Women In Indian Writing: From Difference To Diversity +

    Women In Indian Writing : From Difference To Diversity Publisher: Prestige Books 2012. ISBN 13 : 9788178510491 A Labour of Love Many Read More
  • 1