The Unadorned

My literary blog to keep track of my creative mood swings with poems n short stories, book reviews n humorous prose, travelogues n photography, reflections n translations, both in English n Hindi.

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I'm a peace-loving married Indian male on the right side of '50 with college-going children, and presently employed under government. Educationally I've a master's degree in History, and another in Computer Application. Besides, I've a post graduate diploma in Management. My published works are:- (1)"In Harness", ISBN 81-8157-183-5, a poetry collections and (2) "The Remix of Orchid", ISBN 978-81-7525-729-0, a short story collections with a foreword by Mr. Ruskin Bond, (3) "Virasat", ISBN 978-81-7525-982-9, again a short story collection but in Hindi, (4) "Ek Saal Baad," ISBN 978-81-906496-8-1, my second Story Collection in Hindi.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Am I Asking for Too Much!


Recently I got a copy of "स्मृति शेष", a collection of poems from the poet Dr. Sashibala Singh. The book contains 67 poems in all and I'm going through them rather slowly to do justice to such a beautiful book. Born in 1943, Dr Sahibala introduces herself as a contended housewife, a mother of three sons and two daughters and a happy grandmother of eight children. She has lost her husband last year after a glorious married life of 49 years and today she even feels the spiritual presence of her husband in her life. Her poems are simply superb, something she has probed out of the quagmire of her heart. Here poetry flows like water and there is nothing belaboured about it. I'm happy to translate one for my blog.


Over phone I was chiding them—

What kind of children you are!

No letters, nor message, not even a phone call!

Better, rather, as kids you were

In your floral dress of a riot of colours

Fair-skinned with dishevelled hair

Screaming mom for matters so trivial

Pestering me for things I won’t grant

With cute little palms, imploring and open

And I would run away to ignore them

But, seeing you behind my love would surge

Distressing my heart as affections would rush

I would draw you closer for a kiss on your brow.

Now, in the name of motherhood

I’m begging you something—

Give me a few moments of yours—just a few

Be it over phone, I won’t mind

But talk to me, my children, let me hear you.

Oh, darling of my heart

Am I asking for too much!

A mother’s heart is content with that

Only that much is enough

And nothing more I’d ask.

I’m happy to see

The sapling I planted in my youth

Is poised to kiss the sky

And touch the clouds of ambitions

But I remain here, where I was

Sans pride and down to earth

Repeating the history as I stroke the grass

And the epoch begins and ends like that.



A. N. Nanda






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