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| Aparna Anekvarna |
It is not often that one comes across a person as prolific as Aparna Anekvarna. Along with being an excellent poetess who writes in both English as well as Hindi, she is also an amazing artist. Her poems and her sketches make a formidable combination that you cannot help but appreciate. These poems will help you look at this world with a new perspective. Random things that we take for granted like a mother’s prayer or nectar and flowers become poetic and worthy of notice. Another thing that sets these poems apart is the portrayal of love not as an emotion experienced only when two people are together but as an omnipotent feeling that can get inspired by the blue poppy or newspaper and tea. Read on and witness how the age old lines - 'God is in his heaven/and all is well with my world.' get imbued with a new meaning.
Beyond Her Scars
A silver river runs on the face of the moon.
Criss-crossing it..
Dinosaurs, Kalidas, Mohawks and Neil Armstrong.
they all have seen it
So have you and me..
A few drops melted and touched her face years ago
And an alter-image singed its way on it..
For days..
silver burned a livid red against her tan..
Time nursed and she healed
The lava is cold now.. the stream is at peace..
Yet she feels it throbbing now n then..
'reassuring' her of its presence..
She had resented, she fought...
And then.. she realised..
She was the chosen one,
The closest to the moon
They both carry the same identity card --
'Scarred and Beautiful'
An Afghan Girl
a tiger lurks
in her tawny gaze..
they think
they have it
all tamed..
I shudder
at the steel touch
of truth..
my eyes smart
and skin crawls..
truth 'flaunts'
its tiger-stench..
within her seven veils
she roars..
her iris cracks
and stays intact..
she lives her
glass-like life..
intact.. and also
in shreds.
in her tawny gaze..
they think
they have it
all tamed..
I shudder
at the steel touch
of truth..
my eyes smart
and skin crawls..
truth 'flaunts'
its tiger-stench..
within her seven veils
she roars..
her iris cracks
and stays intact..
she lives her
glass-like life..
intact.. and also
in shreds.
I shall return
I close everyday
life rears its ugly head
yet again..
on wings of
migratory birds
winter rides in
I feel it in my bones
migratory birds
winter rides in
I feel it in my bones
back home
in a bamboo thicket
rests my umblical cord
awaiting my return..
in a bamboo thicket
rests my umblical cord
awaiting my return..
I shall one day
like winter.. return..
to become whole
before getting undone
like winter.. return..
to become whole
before getting undone
a primitive mist
awaits me there
a native..
I shall return.
awaits me there
a native..
I shall return.
Life's sweet temptations
life's
sweet
temptations
begin with being
finger licking good!
sweet
temptations
begin with being
finger licking good!
I look back in
craving
satiation
regret
craving
satiation
regret
held captive..
later,
I stare at
the emptiness..
wrappers litter
around.
later,
I stare at
the emptiness..
wrappers litter
around.
promises
wrapped in
over indulgence
laced with
a bitter
aftertaste
wrapped in
over indulgence
laced with
a bitter
aftertaste
often I
forget to read the fine line
'comes with bitter pills'
forget to read the fine line
'comes with bitter pills'
nothing political about it
soft saffron robes he always wore..
in his ears, thick brown rings
on a happy moon face..
he had Santa-eyes twinkling
his wooden sandal.. the carved teak stick
I just died to touch.. almost everything
in his ears, thick brown rings
on a happy moon face..
he had Santa-eyes twinkling
his wooden sandal.. the carved teak stick
I just died to touch.. almost everything
he would call me near for prasad..
I would never ever miss
a laddoo each in both the hands
eventually melted in my fist..
a sandal tika on forehead
cold at first.. later powdery dry
my mumbled thanks.. made them laugh
I felt special.. and also terribly shy
I would never ever miss
a laddoo each in both the hands
eventually melted in my fist..
a sandal tika on forehead
cold at first.. later powdery dry
my mumbled thanks.. made them laugh
I felt special.. and also terribly shy
that is all I can recall
coz then I would just about fly
chasing his pet rabbit..
calling out, 'dhawal' ..come to play
I was 6.. he 53.. 37 years gone by..
news is in.. he was unwell I realise in dismay
after years of illness.. old age..
four days back.. he had passed away
coz then I would just about fly
chasing his pet rabbit..
calling out, 'dhawal' ..come to play
I was 6.. he 53.. 37 years gone by..
news is in.. he was unwell I realise in dismay
after years of illness.. old age..
four days back.. he had passed away
leaping decades, suddenly
comes alive a taste not so stale..
of milky sweet cardamom tea
with my grandfather and the seer,
almost every other morning..
I had with out fail.. I had with out fail..
comes alive a taste not so stale..
of milky sweet cardamom tea
with my grandfather and the seer,
almost every other morning..
I had with out fail.. I had with out fail..
I shed my skin
Images,
Inside..
Outside..
Lift up, swirl, vapourise..
Inside..
Outside..
Lift up, swirl, vapourise..
The shell
Trembles..
Expands..
Into a perfect emptiness..
Trembles..
Expands..
Into a perfect emptiness..
Limits dissolve..
Horizon recedes further
Even more further..
As I meet..
Yet another newer me.
Horizon recedes further
Even more further..
As I meet..
Yet another newer me.
Once more..
I shed my skin..
To walk into
the almost perfect
Heaven of nothingness.
I shed my skin..
To walk into
the almost perfect
Heaven of nothingness.
In prayer
10 in the morning
her eyes closed
her face calm
sitting in 'padmasan'
on an old deer skin
ma prays
her eyes closed
her face calm
sitting in 'padmasan'
on an old deer skin
ma prays
her hair
open
on her back..
little droplets wet
her bright blue drape
but not for long
open
on her back..
little droplets wet
her bright blue drape
but not for long
the flowers
the bhog of
'mishri-kishmish'
the sandal paste
the lamp, the wick, the flame
the fragrance rises in
abstract patterns
from the dhoop stick
a slow ballet of their own
the bhog of
'mishri-kishmish'
the sandal paste
the lamp, the wick, the flame
the fragrance rises in
abstract patterns
from the dhoop stick
a slow ballet of their own
I hear her chant
Sanskrit was never so divine
as it forms sounds
and echoes off me
pulling me inside
the invisible waves
that she magically makes
Sanskrit was never so divine
as it forms sounds
and echoes off me
pulling me inside
the invisible waves
that she magically makes
my eyes well up
in an undefined love
and affection so deep
watching my mother pray
is how I pray..
with her around
'god is in his heaven
and all is well with my world.'
in an undefined love
and affection so deep
watching my mother pray
is how I pray..
with her around
'god is in his heaven
and all is well with my world.'
Words don't assault anymore
skeletons of words
destroyed letters
lie scattered..
slaughtered..
a slow death..
destroyed letters
lie scattered..
slaughtered..
a slow death..
meanings.. forever lost
bleached brittle.. fragile
over exposure makes sure
double sure
bleached brittle.. fragile
over exposure makes sure
double sure
not very long ago..
they had skin..fur..feather..
fangs and claws..
life..
and meaning..
they had skin..fur..feather..
fangs and claws..
life..
and meaning..
radio hums with useless chatter..
newspapers yellow in shame.,
start inventing some more
wordsmith!!
newspapers yellow in shame.,
start inventing some more
wordsmith!!
for words don't assault anymore
Reds
cherries she wore
as earrings
her cheeks mimicked the reds
(the 'cherry picking' scene from DH Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers' has stayed with me ever since I first read it.. )
Comfort
my feet warm
beneath your feet
your eyes holding mine
Nectar
sunbirds..
bees.. butterflies..
give nectar
its meaning
Our quiet moments
morning tea laced with
crisp newspaper-rustle
we sip together
our quiet moments
Drink
1 part Vodka
2 parts orange juice
on the rocks..
screwdriver for world
poetry for us
'the kiss'
licking off
saline sorrows
turtles know 'butterfly-kiss'
dream-catcher
my dreams, they flee
I gather strands of prayers
weave a dream-catcher
just for me..
blue poppy
first poppy blooms
blue..
spring opens eyes
on Himalayan snows
ABOUT THE POETESS
Aparna Anekvarna (Aparna Srivastav Bhagat) hometown: Gorakhpur. education: MA (English Literature) Lives in New Delhi with her family. She is a homemaker. Has worked with a film production company and Delhi-Midday newspaper for five years. Has been writing poetry in Hindi and English since two years. Her Hindi poems have found place in four literary magazines, many literary blogs and three anthologies. Her English micro poems have been selected to be published in 'Seize the Poem: An Anthology'.
All the sketches are by Aparna Anekvarna.
1 comments:
Reading aparna's poem is a journey of deep, heart touching but simple words and emotions. Found Her sketches very verbal . Amazing work.