The Pain of Sweet Memories......

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I recently came across this poem by D.H.Lawrence. The novelist is famous for his exploration of repressed emotions and Oedipal conflict in some of his major works. This poem was a pleasant discovery. While I tried to locate Lawrence in the poem, my mind took me away to a time in future when I would be old and my son would remember the times when he was little and together we had played at the piano. It was nostalgia of a different kind.

Then my mind hovered back to my nest of childhood. I saw my mother singing ghazals. I saw my grandfather reading his newspaper while my grandmother opened her trunks to show me her crochet shawls she had done when she was young. I heard the hearty laughter of my father from the basement where his office was. The door to the basement stairs was ajar and I was spying to hear his joke and tell my mom. All I could hear was his laugh - energetic and unrestrained. I then saw my brother taking me back home from school. He was teasing me since once again I had failed to notice that our car was parked right in front and I had passed it and climbed the school-bus. He had honked but I was lost in my own world. I didn't hear and I didn't see. And he made a good joke out of it. Okay, I seemed angry at first but I joined him soon. He was so lively, how could his spirit not touch my soul. 

Just then, I felt my cheeks were wet. Ah, tears....they were so slippery, I could not contain them longer. Taking a deep breath, I wiped them and looked around. What was it about memories? They made us smile, they made us cry, and still we clung to them as if they were the oars that would help us sail in the ocean of life. We held on to them as if they were the wings that would help us fly when the stormy wind tried to lead us to unknown paths.

How far had I come, I thought. Physically, I could never touch my grandparents, my father and my brother any more. They were on unknown shores on unseen lands. I saw them sometimes in my dreams, but just like dreams, they vanished when I opened my eyes. I wanted to touch my mom but we sat miles away from one another. But her presence was a solace. Like a light-house she shines, guiding me from afar, frustrating my fears, encouraging me to sail on.

Was I happy at that moment? I cannot say. I was happy to relive the past. But it was gone now, and that gave me pain. I missed my brother the most for I could not say my good-bye to him when he departed. Since I could not talk to him, I wrote this for him. May be his soul can read it.

The Tales I Will Tell

I wasn't born just a daughter 

But a sister too - 

A sister to you....

To me you were

Part of my childhood,

My other essence

Like two buds of the same plant

We grew together

Fighting for sunshine and space

Blooming despite the stormy winds

Striding many paths

Crossing many hurdles

And then one day, I decided to uproot myself -

Landing on alien soil

I persisted

While you floundered 

On familiar grounds

I knew not you would wither away

Leaving me alone

Stranded 

Abandoned

You always called yourself 'big'

Boasted you would forever be elder to me

As you were born before me

But as I venture forward with my beating heart,

And age 

I search for you

Futilely

Vainly

Wanting to tell you

I have put more miles to my strides than you

Wanting to brag about my age

To show you I have more candles on the cake than yours

But also to tell you

I never wanted to be 'bigger' to you

That even when you are gone

You still remain and will forever be my 'Big' brother….

Our childhood has vanished

Just like you

But our memories will be carried forward

In the tales I will tell

About you and me

Tales of a little sister and her 'big' brother.....

Linking to IndiSpire Edition 126

Linking to Day 6 of Write Tribe Festival of Words # 5

The Board

"How many times have I told you to be careful with knives! Why were you cutting the vegetables? Where is Khala?," an angry Faiz was complaining to his sister Gul. 

"Khala went to market to sell the baskets. She told me to cut the vegetables," Gul said.

"I wish I could take you to school with me. I want to you learn like I am learning at school," Faiz said as he bandaged Gul's finger. He loved his sister a lot. She was his world.

"Khala says I should learn house work because that is what I am supposed to do when I grow up", replied Gul.

"That's rubbish. My teacher is a Miss. I want you to be like her. Did you practice what I taught you last night?" asked Faiz.

"I did not have your pencil Faiz." Faiz was about to start but Gul added, " I wrote on sand. See", he took Faiz's hand and rushed behind the kitchen. Faiz saw how beautifully and correctly Gul had written everything. 

"How was school today Faiz?"

"Good. My teacher said that the fair is coming to our village next week. We have to go there Gul. Remember how much fun it was last year", Faiz said delightfully.

"Oh yes. We bought balloons and rode on the ferris wheel and played with those big bubbles. And you had loved the baklava they were selling in the fair. This time you get lot of them. That way you can eat them for so many days Faiz." Gul reminded her brother.

"Mmmmmm.......the baklava......so sweet it just melted in the mouth....," Faiz absent-mindedly licked his lips. "But no Gul. We will not waste our money this time Gul. Miss was showing a nice board on which we can write. It does not need any chalk also Gul. It has a pen attached to it and we can write on it and then we can erase it and write on it again. It was so wonderful Gul. Miss said we can get it in the fair. There was that beautiful book stall at the fair remember. It will be selling that board Gul. If we buy it, you can write on it as many times as you want to and we don't need to worry about buying chalks and pencils. Khala will be happy too because she will not have to give us money again and again."

"But do we have money for that board Faiz?"

"We can help Khala and make more baskets. The more baskets she sells, the more money we will get. Come, let us weave some baskets and surprise Khala."

Faiz rushed to the corner where Khala kept all her stuff and started weaving. Gul sat down to help her brother. The two were so lost in the work they did not see Khala coming. She looked surprised but didn't say anything. Faiz got up and gave water to Khala.

"What is it this time Faiz? I cannot buy you anything right now", Khala said. 

Faiz told Khala about the board. She was pleased to hear about it and a little curious too. But with an empty pocket, she could offer no words of encouragement. She asked the two kids to say their prayers and go to bed. Faiz and Gul sadly lay down and went to sleep. 

The next seven days one could see Gul and Faiz busy weaving the baskets. Their little fingers did much work and they ached but their desire for that little treasure made them forget everything. Khala wanted to stop them but she did not want to rob them of their happiness. So she kept quiet and did her work with an even greater spirit.

Hard work does wonders. So does a passionate heart. And here there were two little hearts full of zeal, full of innocence, full of love. Many baskets were weaved, and sent straight to the market. Khala brought in money every night and tucked them under her pillow.

The day of the fair arrived. Faiz was very excited.

"Will Khala give us the money Gul?" he asked.

"You go and ask...."

"Faiz, come here," Khala was calling.

Faiz went to Khala. Gul peeped from behind the kitchen door.

"Take it. Go and get that board. And better hurry up before it's all gone."

Faiz hugged Khala but couldn't utter a word. His happiness knew no bounds. Taking the money, he went out and ran. He ran and ran and stopped to catch his breath only when he had reached the fair. He did not see the big balloons and the bigger bubbles. He did not see the rides. He did not even see the food stall selling his favorite baklavas. He just saw the book stall and that board his Miss had shown at school. After paying for it, he held it in his hand for the first time. He felt its smooth edges. He took the pen and wrote his name. The pen moved like butter melting on a hot pan.....smooth, easy, flowing. It was beautiful. Was that a rain drop that fell on the board or was it a tear from Faiz's eyes. It is difficult to say because the weather was cloudy and Faiz had quickly wiped his face as he ran back home. 

He reached his house and shouted, " Khala, Gul.....look..", and he sat down catching his breath. Khala and Gul surrounded him and asked him to write on the board. Faiz wrote Gul's name. Then Khala asked Faiz to draw something. As Faiz sat there drawing, Gul went inside and brought something from the kitchen. Faiz's eyes gleamed and opened wide in surprise. They were his favorite baklavas. Khala had kept some spare money and got some baklavas from the fair.

"Gul told me how much you loved these baklavas. Did you want to wait for another year to eat them?", Khala said laughing.

Faiz drew a picture on the board - Khala, he and Gul with a plate full of baklavas. And no one erased it for a long time. 


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