The Nostalgic Tamarind

 Nostalgia brings a mix of both sportive as well as staid modalities at a time. This morning was full of life and induced me unfold the closed doors of memories in its depth. The reason was the solicitation sent to the memories by an image that showed the picture of one of the most famous dams, just before it getting filled. Now, it is filled with water and a drought is no longer anticipated, that site could never be probable again. Though this image has nothing to do with my memories, it has brought back another vista to my memory that will never appear in front of my eyes again. It’s a panorama that often came out without any benignity and without considering my inclination to hide it in the invisibility of my mind. It stimulated a sensation that my heart is very delicate, despite my desire for it to have the appearance of a very bold personality.

The scenery was of the big tamarind tree that stood in our courtyard when I was a child. The big tree with small leaves that oscillated in the breeze and tamarind fruits that waited for the arrival of a wind to prove that even we can hover. The hugeness of the tree caused me to have the pleasure of only a long sight of its branches with those beautiful leaves and tamarind fruits. As all my friends were visiting their paternal and maternal houses during the school vacation, I made it a routine to visit the tree in the vehicle of loneliness with the ticket of sorrow given by my mom. I wanted to believe that like me, the tamarind tree also is alone and my presence will make her happy, but I was wrong. The tree had the company of thousands of ants, hundreds of small birds and bats and a big king fisher. With this much of companions around, the tree didn't even look at me and I felt much lonelier.

I kept my efforts to talk to the tree, but she was adamant and never replied. To console my mind, I tried to convince it by saying that the ear of the tree is in its ears, but my mind never seemed convinced. In spite of her ignorance, I never stopped visiting her and in the cooling of her shadow and in the taste of the tamarind fruit that fell down from the tree I often fell asleep beneath the tree. While sleeping, many a times I was aimed by mom’s wrath and was hit by the stick of the tamarind tree to show yet another face of the tamarind tree. To save me from the loneliness and the red-hot climate of the summer, the rains visited me along with my friends. While I was walking towards my friends assisted by the rains, I hid all my dislikes towards the tamarind tree that ignored me for last 60 days.

At last one day, I bid good bye to the slavery named school and bondage named uniform and walked towards the freedom named college and miracle named marriage. On these ecstasies of freedom and miracle, the tamarind tree never visited me even in my dreams and I never thought about her. After a few years, on a regular visit to my parents, when I felt too hot, I asked my mom for the reason and she told me about the dismemberment of the tamarind tree.  While listening to my mom, I could realize the depth of care, taste, nip and consolation given by the tamarind tree. Without uttering even a single word, without hearing anything from my loneliness, the tree was taking care of me. In severe pain, I recognized that I won’t see her again.  Despite my intense desire to see it again, I christened it as an impossible vision and hid its memory wrapping it with the blanket of forgetfulness.


Qamar ul mutha'allim

Nailed up by desolation
I cried out to get freed
I ran towards the mounts
To have a new venture

On the way,it happened,  
I met him!!! the man of hope
He is far from a good teacher
A teacher never be like this

He is the man of blessing
A boon given from heaven
Though,  he means so much
I call him only Usthad,

They call him shamzul ulama, 
The sun of wise men
I call him qamarul mutha'allim, 
The moon of aspiring students.

For them, he shines like sun
But burns with heat of truth
To them he grins like sun
With his light of knowledge

For us, he shines like moon,
With all his  love and compassion
To us, he smiles like moon
With all his purity and reflection

He taught us how to live
When we refused to learn
With him, we forgot how
How we learnt all we ought

I went to learn Arabic
But he taught life along
Thank you so much Usthad
The personified blessings.


The inmate

While going through the application form filled by the young beautiful lady, sitting in front öf her table, Anita's mind was filled with emotions. She couldn't understand how could this world be so mean.  Astonished by the answer given in the visitors colunm, Anita stared at the young woman with anger. It was written none in the visitors colunm.
Sitting on the chair of warden in the most famous old age home of the city, Anita could see  the merciless behaviour of different kinds of People.  Many sons and daughters left their parents here forever after promising that they will pay a visit very soon. Though,  they didn't return,  they maintained the courtesy öf not hurting their elders on face.

Here a daughter or a grand daughter??? Anita couldn't make out the age of the victim whose fate is written in the narrow corridors of this old age home. The woman who sat in front of her must be around thirty or thirty five...From her age, Anita guessed the victim as her grandmother who could be of the age somewhere near seventy or sevent five. Seventy five is not a big age in this home as most inmates here are running on their nineties . Thinking about the age, her eyes flew to the colunm of age. That colunm was empty.

The lady who filled the application left towards the car even before Anita thinks of asking about the inmate's age. Within a few minutes,  she appeared with two big bags and one trolly bag. That was again a surprise to Anita as never in  her career, she saw more than one bag given to the inmates. Two or three sets of clothes and a box filled with medicines were the most common contents of those small bags.

Looking at such a heavy luggage Anita called her back. She was confused on the available space to get all these things accommodated. She couldn't understand the need of this much luggage to a woman aged more than seventy. On her voice, the lady looked back with a lot of questions on her long eyes. Though, they were hidden behind her small spectacles,  Anita could spell each and every questions in that look.

She left the luggages on the corridor and slowly walked towards Anita. Anita couldn't  prevent herself from being harsh towards the lady because of her cruelty towards her mother or grand mother. She said in a rough voice that she can't afford this much of clothes here. The lady seemed calm and answered in a low voice that they are not clothes,  they are books....the only assets I have in this world. I cant leave them.

Suddenly Anita felt that she is making a mistake while raising voice to a woman. She must have been entrusted by her siblings to leave their mother here. So she is not the only one to be blamed. On this thought,  she could relax herself a bit and asked whether they needed a bigger room which will cost an amount of fifty thousands rupees more. The lady replied no. That no added a lot to Anita's anger. She couldn't imagine the suffocation an old woman will have in a small room, among this much of books

Without even showing the politeness to seek permission,  the lady turned herself towards the luggage, Anita stopped her to give the reciept of 2.65 lacs. She explained the details of the Payment. Rs.15000 towards admission fees and Rs.2.5 lacs towards the fixed deposit, 40% of which will be returned on the death of the inmate.

Relatives of the inmate cannot claim the dead body as all the healthy parts of the body will be donated to the needed patients and rest of the body will be given to the medical students for their practical sessions. The lady listened it without any pain or restlessness unlike other People who reached there to leave their unwanted parents. Anita started hating the lady again for her insanity. Her mind tagged the lady as personified cruelty. 

As the lady was about to leave again, Anita again called her from behind and asked her to fill the colunm of age. While the lady was taking the pen to fill that colunm, Anita asked her where is the inmate, she should sign in the register. Returning the application form, the lady forwarded her hands for the register. Being hesitant to give it to her, Anita told her that,"no, it should be signed by the inmate". First time since they met, the lady stared at Anita's eyes and took the register and signed on it without her permission and returned it.  Shocked on her move, Anita looked at the colunm of age at the application form. It was written "32 years".


Behind the horse

While laying as an object before the viewers, 
She was not sad, though she was ashamed
Somebody shouted, she is jenny; the female donkey
Jenny couldn't make out her fault; being a female or a donkey

Unwilling to frame both,she convicted her desire
None encouraged her desire to run with the horse.
Even the horse tried a lot to make her not to pursue
Everyone had the same reason. 
A donkey can't reach him..a female will never
None on earth could make her turn back 
Provoked by her inherent faith, she started running. ...
Even in her max, she couldn't reachveven his way
Competence as his tagline, horse never looked back

Over excited muscles couldn't catch up her heart 
There took an avenge where her body became her enemy
Fighting with her muscles, she couldn't move her feet
running above her speed landed her to the stable
With a scarced health, she couldn't hold a load
Mercy was shown to her by sending her to the Zoo
Being an object is a cause of shame, yet she is not sad
For she cherishes the memory of steering behind the  horse.


You are the one

You are the one with whom 
I wanna age with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna walk with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna wake with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna live with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna eat with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna love with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna dine with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna sleep with

You are the one with whom 
I wanna age with


Why do I excel?

On the way back from my past,
I saw a runner who is still ready to run
And I am running to reach the present
On the way back from my past,
I saw a learner who is still ready to learn
Because I am learning to live
On the way back from my past,
I saw a singer who is still ready to sing
For there is a sweet tone plays around my lips
On the way back from my past,
I saw a guitarist who is still ready to play
As my fingures are still moving in search of the strings of my guitar
On the way back from my past,
I saw a painter who is still ready to paint
Since my eyes are still engaged in beautiful colors
On the way back from my past,
I saw a writer who is still ready to write
Even now I am writing this poem
On the way back from my past,
I saw a smiler who is still ready to smile
While I still let a smile to reign on my face
On the way back from my past,
I saw a  me who is still ready to excel
So I do decide to excel till I close my eyes forever


Is it the time for a journey?

Is it the time for a journey? 
A journey that holds a lot
A journey that never ends
Through the ways, I never had been
With none behind to follow 
With none ahead to be followed
Yearning for that mellifluence that was never heard
Seeking for the panorama that was never seen

Is it the time for a journey? 
A journey that will make më reach to my unknown destiny
A journey that will answer all my riddles
Through the paths 
Shaped by aliens
With no precise aim to bother
With no steep goals to reach
Longing to meet that incarnated oddity
Hoping to point the seed of that unpercieved life

Is it the time for a journey? 
A journey that is predesigned
A jouney  that has nothing to propose
Through the shores of knowledge in abundance
With no desire to have even a drop of it
With no lust to enjoy its mantled nudity
Searching the origin of its core that was never revealed
Ceasing the flow of those tears that were never oozed out....


My pseudo friend

Sailing on the boat of joy and love, 
I looked around for you
You held my hand and drove my boat we together sailed on

Sailing on the boat of risk and wreak, 
I looked around for you
You left my hand but drove my boat we together sailed on

Sailing on the boat of pain and tears, I looked around for you
You left my hand and left my boat, I alone sailed on

Sailing on the boat of ail and fall,
I looked around for you
You hold their hands and drove their boat
You together sailed on

Sailing on the boat of dashing hopes, I looked around for you
God held my hands and drove my boat we together sailed on

Sailing on the boat of hailing joy,
I looked around for God...
You came to me and ask for joy
I sailed on, leaving you...

Reaching on the shore of togetherness
You spread your hands for me
Living on a life of harmony,  I left you pseudo friend. I left you for others


To my dear guitar

I miss you so much, oh guitar, the lovely lassie of my garden
In  my moments of solitude, I wish your rhythm to be in my ears.
In the moments of monotony, I wish my fingers to be on you.
In my moments of sorrow,  I wish your moves to console my soul.
In my moments of failures, I wish your tunes to bring success.
In my moments of sadness, I wish your music to bring pleasure.
In my moments of  discontent, I wish you to make me content
In my moments of silence, I wish your strings to play for me.
I miss you so much I miss you so much oh dear guitar.


Who am I?

Who am I?
Am I an unchristened rain drop that leaves to earth.

Who am I?
Am I that red color petal that lost its hold on the beautiful flower.

Who am I?
Am I that yellow leaf that got removed from that mighty tree.

Who am I?
Am I that unreturning tide that lost itself on the shore.

Who am I?
Am I that dew drop that lost its identity during snow fall.

Who am I?
Am I that swift movement of air, that left the world of its uncertainty.

Who am I?
Am I that small bit of sand that left unnoticed in the wider beach.

Who am I?
Am I that unknown me who lost myself in the heavy crowd.


They left

Those gloomy clouds that left the world in darkness have left
Those dreadful rains that got me inside the walls have left
Those profuse storms that filled sorrow in my heart have left
Those horrific thunders that roared in my flimsy ears have left
Those scary flashes that passed along my eyes have left
Those dizzy whispers that scared my chosen will have left
Those filthy thoughts that made me cry all day have left
Those awful strokes that wreaked my life into trouble have left
In lay of those gloomy clouds, I have a vivid and bright blue sky
In lay of those dreadful rains, I have a lovely clime of enthusiasm
In lay of those profuse storms, I have a lovely breeze of comfort
In lay of those horrific thunders, I have a mellifluent music
In lay of those scary flashes, I have a shining night of promise
In lay of those dizzy whispers, I have gleeful words of joy
In lay of those filthy thoughts, I have a an ample desire of bliss
In lay of those awful strokes, I have you who held me alive


I was in want of you

When rain drops strive themselves to beat each other
I was in want of you
When thunder made it clear to frighten the earth
I was in want of you
When lighting had the intensity to light up the world
I was in want of you
When the wind animated itself to undergo reversion
I was in want of you
When the dark clouds reined the sky to fade its blue
I was in want of you
When the sun hid itself under the mighty layers of clouds
I was in want of you
When the earth wrapped itself with greenish water
I was in want of you
When my eyes refused to close its lids in my own favor
I was in want of you
When the world stared at me for I couldn't be mine
I was in want of you
Though the rains and wind could show its brightness
I was in want of you
Rather I would like to say my soul is in want of you
I was in want of you
Yes, I was, I am and I will be in want of you forever


Jisha Jagadeesh

Copyright © 2015

It's Me The Miracle by Jisha Jagadeesh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License