Hilly Land and Her New Home

The new land though hilly and mountainous, had its own charms. Lying on the outskirts of the town it was literally a hill which her father had purchased at a throw a way price. A farmer, with green fingers he started terrace cultivation. It was an innovation which was much appreciated. And he tapped the best of harvest from it. He loved trees. He bought sapplings from fruit tree farms and planted them. Mango Trees were his favourites. Even though she missed her childhood home here was a new kind of terrain rather a wild one. It was the little streams and the high mountains that fascinated her. They lived "far away from the madding crowd". They had no neighbours, wherever she looked there was only green undulating land. She felt like Cowper's solitary sailor, the the monarch of all she surveyed .This love for land and trees remained with her long after she left her home.

Painting by Latha Prem Sakhya

Home - A Place Where You Really Belong

Trees

Trees were next to her heart if one checks out her passion for water sources. The trees on her land were a source of wonder for her. There were four gigantic Tamarind trees like sentries watching over their land. Her favourite one was the second tree nearest to her home. She was always there, building houses for her dolls .Often her sisters and other akkas (Elder sisters) in the neighbourhood joined her. They would play, inventing game after game all,  products of sheer imagination. Their all time favourite was keeping a drunkard’s house. The girl became invariably the drunkard. Because she had watched from a distance what occurred in her friend Rani’s house when her father came home drunk Oh there was, much fun and laughter. Then there were those huge Ayyanni trees and the jack fruit trees.. The girl really loved them .In great ecstasy she would hug them to her heart. As she grew the trees became a kind of solace for her. Often she shared her teenage woes with them. In their silence or in their rustling she heard words of comfort. They were also her favourite haunt where she read her favourite books or where she studied. She even slept under their shade. This love grew but when they shifted to the new farm her father purchased,  her heart was broken. She missed her friend the boy in blue shirt and Khaki Knickers, the crystal clear pond and her huge trees.


Down Memory lane


Going down memory lane,
I came to my old homestead-
Where, for seventeen summers
I was nurtured.

The old rambling house, with its spacious rooms;
The sweeping land; the gigantic tamarind trees-
Four great pillars- sentry like
Guarding the terrain.

The second one, nearest to my homestead -
Our favourite haunt! My siblings
And I, with childish enthusiasm, played
Making doll houses and keeping house.

Oh, it was such fun then!
No care, no worries,
Only, innocent mirth and grief.
But alas gliding years,
Weaves a nostalgic dream
Unwinding the spool of yearning,
To regain the golden days of childhood.

From  Memory Rain

Childhood

I distinctively remember a small chubby fair girl in sleeveless knee length frock running down the terrain at the back of her house when aurora came kissing the trees and nests of the birds awakening them to sing their welcome song to Apollo. The girl ran as if she had an urgent errant, but only to stop under the tamarind tree and take her first glimpse of the tiny pool after the previous night’s rain. If it was muddy like the strong morning tea, she would hasten back, a big disappointment writ large on her face. If it was sapphire green she would go dancing down the slope slithering and scraping her thighs in her hurry to reach the pool. She would drink the pool with her eyes and look beyond the paddy fields bathed in morning mist. Somewhere on the distant bank lived her friend .She had seen him making his way to her neighbour’s house to buy milk. He was a very good looking rolly polly boy. He never dared to look at her teasing eyes that followed him lovingly. They never spoke. But there was love in her young heart.

Unicorns

 Unicorn is a mythical creature. It is almost always conceived as a slender white horse with a single horn on the middle of its forehead. It is supposed to be peaceful and timid and a harbinger of good luck. It is untameable and can never be exploited. It lives in its own wild, special place. I was fascinated with this creature from childhood and it was this fascination that drove me to paint a Unicorn.It is one of my favourite mythical animals.

My Unicorn

Agony

On an inky black night-
The moon hid her tear stained face
In the dark manes of the cloudy sky;
The stars struggled to peep out;
You came riding the wind,
Slicing the silence of the night
With your shrill hoots
Echoing urgency in each note
To pierce my sleepy mind-
To swim back to reality-
From the ocean of subconscious
Adrift in pursuance of an elusive dream.

Lying awake, listening,
To your soul rending hoots –
Reasons for your sorrow
Flitted through my mind.

“Did his beloved leave him for another?
Was he worried about the plight
Of the little ones in his nest?
Did the yawning years
Of loneliness trouble him?
Was he betrayed by his best friend?
Was he irked by the injustice
Meted out to him by his feathery kin?
Was he in a state of indecision
That paralyses humans to inaction?
Or was he just overwhelmed by the fight
To survive in a world, not always friendly?”

Twisting and turning I tried to gauge
Your sorrow and to find a reason.
But could only throb with your agony

By Latha Prem Sakhya

Nostalgia is in my Blood

My Appa (father) was nostalgic for his homeland. Faraway in a strange land, with strange people
he came to make his fortune and finally settled down. Nostalgia was in his blood.
It drove him to take us with him when he went for his occasional visit to his home land.
We enjoyed those trips, visiting his relatives –his aunts, cousins, his friends.
Even now the last visit he made in the year 2000 is fresh in my memory.
In spite of his physical weakness, he was running, in his eagerness to see his loved ones.
I found it very difficult to keep pace with him.
I was equally excited like him and I didn’t want to miss a second of all those loving reunions.
And it was indeed a treat.
Now that he is no more he has left that legacy to me.
Like my appa I too yearn to be with my amma (mother), my siblings, nephews, nieces, my sister in-laws, in short to be in the midst of my large family.
Its not the distance that makes me nostalgic.
It’s not being able to live amidst them that make me sick with nostalgia.

Do you know I used to even study in the midst of din –either in the kitchen- where the elders-especially women including my amma, aunties, neighbours -who came to chit chat and the helpers all exchanging news of births deaths, marriages jokes etc and having a whale of fun and laughter while on their kitchen chores or where my siblings were playing or fighting as their mood led them. Often I was chased out relentlessly but I could hardly concentrate on my book as my heart was with them. Only when I am in the midst of life especially among people I love can I concentrate.Strange isn’t it? But I am like that.

Reminiscence

Nostalgic images of the past flood me-
Ensconcing me in its warmth.
Rejuvenating me with vivacity
To face the myriad headed life.

The image of a rabbit-faced ten year old,
Rushing about in white petticoat,
Urging siblings to dress hastily,
Simultaneously packing lunch and school bags.

The over laden school girl, carrying
Her infant brother, perched on her hip,
Metal box and lunch basket in her other hand,
Marching swiftly, her siblings following.

The long-haired, lanky adolescent,
Rushing to her siblings’ classes in the noon,
Herding them to the dining room,
Coercing them to eat.

Scores and scores of lively images,
When life was full - an adventure,
When waking up was a thrill,
Every new day a bundle of surprise.

But now in the autumn of life,
Living, loving, serving, sacrificing,
When the thorns of life pierce and slash me,
I surface for air.

And these wistful images, overpower me,
Refreshing me, with energy new
To carry on, with the same girlish zest
Each fresh day gifted to me.



From the book Memory Rain By Latha Prem Sakhya


Now in my beautiful home nestled among trees I planted lovingly,which one of my friends named Swapnakoodu (Dream nest)most of the time I am alone. When my husband is there,like the moon I am around him. If he is busy with his carpentry, I will be nearby reading or sewing or tailoring, if he is watching TV I will be on my computer.When I am all alone I gravitate towards my pets. I have one rabbit Karimani (black bead),two kittens-Sheru and Sundaran, and two dogs Lassie and Kiran, With them near me,I read my books or make sketches for my paintings.
Its when my daughter comes home that we start living.

Tiny World
Little round eyes rolling,
Tiny hands and legs beating in the air,
Smiling with your toothless gum,
You steal the onlooker’s heart.
This charm of winning,
Everyone’s affection and love,
Wanes away, as you stand on your feet
Asserting your tiny world of independence.

From the book Memory Rain By Latha Prem Sakhya


Yes, there is lot of fun, and laughter. When she is home,its time for my holidays too.I keep away everything and laze around having fun with the family, frolicking and enjoying myself.

Comeraderie

Two piggy tails bobbing,
Shining black eyes laughing,
Weaving funny anecdotes,
You enthrall your ‘Acha’
With your childish prater.


Listening patiently,
He supplements with creations similar,
Leading to unrestrained laughter and joy.

I– a silent spectator
Enjoyed the comeraderie
Between father and daughter
Denied to me as a child.

From the book Memory Rain By Latha Prem Sakhya


We have outings,we have cooking out-door,where we try out strange recipes. Often she is home only for two days. She comes to sleep, eat and have fun with us after a hectic schedule in her medical school. At times she used to go of to sleep after break fast and I would keep vigil outside waiting for her to wake up so that I could share with her all the happenings and my escapades- at home, in my college and neighborhood which I had been hoarding to tell her. She loved to listen to all these tit bits which I couldn’t convey over the phone and like her father she is a very good listener .Soon she will be making a nest of her own.

New Nest

Dewy eyed, dawn, twittering songsters
Eagerly awaiting the golden streaks
To lighten up the world
For the early worm to catch.


In a tiny nest, the she bird’s pride-
Geared for her first flight,
With mounting excitement.
Wings gathering balance
Circled in the air
With swan like grace.
Under the watchful eyes
Of the adoring pair.

The he bird singing hymns
Heralding the sun, flew mirthfully
Cheering the little one, inspiring her to fly
Higher and higher, to race with the wind.
Oblivious to the sorrowful joy colonizing
The mother-mind tenderly visualizing
The young one in a nest of her own
Chosen by her beloved for a new life

By Latha Prem sakhya




Friends I have a plenty. But I have left behind all my best friends in my home town. We keep in touch Occasionally. Among my new friends I lost two of my close friends Cancer took away the first and a weak heart took away the second.

Aria

Strains of a once familiar song,
Lapping on the shores of my memory.
Tantalized and teased me to pursue
Its’ haunting, yet evading, elusive lines.

In hot pursuit I crashed
Through the labyrinthine maze of my mind,
Stacked high with neatly packed caskets
Containing variegated experiences of my life.

In varied colors and shapes,
The gazing memory caskets mocked me.
For, in the haste of living I had forgotten
To label them neatly for future reference.

The glazed, blank look of the unlabelled caskets,
Unnerved me, with their still, icy silence.
I had forgotten the content of most of them;
And an urge to open and reminisce mastered me.

But I deliberately ignored that wanton desire,
My soul’s undivided aim- to trace the source
Of that familiar song, haunting me relentlessly,
Coerced my mind to reveal the recurring melody.

The intense quest of my soul seared and scorched me;
My agonized being vibrated with the mounting tempo-
Of the reverberating echoes of the haunting notes.
And in a blue flash of light I saw YOU-framed in my inner eyes.

Like a roaring wave from an alien shore,
The Lydian measure came rushing to my ears-
The aria celebrating our idyllic friendship,
For a brief span of ten years.

The recaptured song, from the sea of oblivion-
Created by the “sick hurry, and fret of living”;
Flooded and environed my being with your memories,
Fluttering like homing pigeons.


Our friendship transcended the earthly barriers,
As if we had been friends for eons.
Our shared thoughts, feelings, attitudes, experiences,
And our identical visions of life strengthened our bond.


Yet you lived in a plain sublime;
Your faith and absolute trust in God,
Made you a source of inspiration,
To all, who came into close contact with you.

A unique incarnation of love-
You accepted, forgave and patiently bore-
Uncomplainingly, the undeserving yoke in your life-
A real model of human virtues.

Oft, I had enjoyed your care and concern;
Your loving presence and letters of consolation,
Had often restored my bruised and injured soul,
Wafting me to serene shores of peace and happiness.

You had bowed helplessly to your fate,
When the relentless Reaper brought to naught-
Your hard won spiritual and earthly honours,
Destroying forever your intense desire to live.

Unreconciled to the reality of loss, I see you
Immaculately dressed in starched saree, hurrying to your classes
With an arm-load of books, and your bespectacled eyes,
Dancing and smiling greetings to your friends and students.

I see you again immersed in your post-doctoral studies,
And guiding your students, or bustling about
Attending to your never ending chores
As wife, daughter-in-law, friend and teacher.

All these images instill in me a fond hope-
The hope of meeting you soon...as though
I need only to put aside my daily chores
And make a surprise visit as in yester years.

From the book Memory Rain By Latha Prem Sakhya


Black Knight

When the black night dressed in splendour
Came knocking at my door
I said to him, "I have two fledglings in my nest-
One hardly four and the other six
I have to be there to tend to their needs".
He left without a murmur.
I wondered why!
But I turned back to life
Enjoying the minutiae of living
And caring for my loved ones.
They grew day by day ,
I saw their wings sprout
Fourteen summers passed by
Not A day passed by
Without my thanks giving to my God
For the reprieve he had given me.
Then my daughter found a new nest,
My apprehensions about her vanished
But my younger ones wings
Had hardly any strength
To survive the gales and storms
That might take him
So I kept my fingers crossed.

But one evening, most unexpectedly
The black knight came riding, riding.
I sensed him from far, for my body
Curiously enough was preparing itself,
To free my soul to its eternal home.
I knew for certain he would not wait
Nor let me be for some more time.
Yet when he reached my door step
I parried with him for one more day.
Sure enough pity assailed him
He left without a word.
But I knew deep inside
He would come for me the next day-
I must live that day to my full!

And my frail heart,
Like a caged bird fluttered
Conscious that it was time to fly away.
But ,I haven’t seen the sun yet,
Nor the sight of other humans
In their daily chores.
I yearned to be out in the midst of life-
Just this once with my beloved beside me.
May be a last ride together!

Yes, I must get out of this room,
This house, this red prison.
May be God understood my intense desire.
My friend came unexpectedly
She promised to take me out, but where?
"To the hospital," I said.
I needed a check up.

So out we went
From the tangles of the red prison.
It was a great day for me.
Flanked by my beloved on one side
And my friend beside me
We drove away.

I enjoyed the golden sun,
 The mighty trees,hurrying people.
I saw life rushing by
As we sped to the hospital.
The aghast doctor admitted me
I was given a roon
From where I could see the entrance.

I thrilled at the sights I saw
For the past two years, too sick to move about
I had seen only my backyard
And my neighbour’s shut windows.
My children in search of new pastures,
My beloved busy making money,
None had time for me.
Even my friends kept away
Fearing that their visits would strain
My frail heart and worsen my illness.

No one spied the change
That their presence wrought in me
I would grow rosy and pink
When blood rushed back to my face
Erasing the bluish pallor of death.
They never knew my yearning
To be in the midst of loved ones-
Was making me bloom.
As days went by I gave in to despair
Not even my friends cared for me.

All the loneliness building up
In the red walls of my prison.
Had made me long for him.
And he came faithful to me
And he gave me one more day.
To enjoy myself.

It was a day of picnic for me,
Surrounded by my loved ones.
The apple I munched tasted like ambrosia
I wanted to tell them so many things!
I talked ceaselessly,
I ignored the mounting tension
I saw reflected in their eyes.

This is  my day,
Tomorrow I will be no more.
So let me talk my maximum
I talked, I laughed, and I teased my friends
I pulled their legs
Oh it was fun.

The consternation they tried to hide
Made me vicious too.
I made sly remarks
And barbed digs at my in-laws
But they gracefully ignored them.
Their discomfort made me
All the more exuberant
And  I talked on ceaselessly
Giving them little chance to speak.

He never left my side, my beloved
Tending to my needs like a dutiful slave.
I was overjoyed.
At least today I will have him by my side.
He was always slithery as an eel
Slipping away on slightest pretexts.
But today I had really hooked him,
I had tied him to my petticoat string.

By evening I was discharged.
Many of my relatives and friends visited me.
And I was totally tired
I had to prepare for my journey
Before that I had to finish
Two more tasks
I must talk to my favourite sister,
I must talk to my children.
I had completed all the other tasks-
I had given away all my best clothes
And all my cherished items
To people who would use them.
I looked forward to my three phone calls.

Yet as I rode home
I feasted on the passing scenes
And thirstily drank them in.

My last ride!
At home I called my sis
I spoke to her for one hour,
Indirectly I bid her farewell
But her mind wouldn’t accept it.
I told her how tired I was,
That I was fed up-
Protecting my heart for survival
How I had become a burden to everyone!
I then bid her good night and good bye.
Time was running out on me
I called my children,
I couldn’t get them.

My heart throbbed painfully
For my children’s presence
I realized I had to go
without bidding them farewell.
My time was up .

From far away I heard the sound of hooves
As my black Knight
Came galloping from the south
Once I had conceived him
As a grim relentless being
But my experience had proven him
To be kind and merciful
He had given me fourteen long years
And one more day
What more can I ask of him
I was tired,
I had no one to care for now
I wanted to sleep
Even before he reached my door step
My soul flew out to him
Cradling it in his arms tenderly
He swung his horse towards eternity.

By Latha Prem Sakhya

I remember my old friends often.
Going through old Christmas cards, birthday cards and scraps of faded yellow papers in which notes of love care and anger where expressed -are now treasured monuments of innocent friendships.
I pray for my old friends and most of them I believe are doing well in some part of the world.
I have waded through the myriad shades and hues of friend ship.
And I have learned that friendship in reality can be sheer joy as well as sheer agony.

Prop

Friendship, a prop of life
Who can live without it?
Even the meanest heart
Yearns like the sunflower
For the friendly warmth to bloom;
And share happiness,
Hopes and miseries,
Begotten in the journey of life.

Where can one hoard
Secret loves,
Suppressed yearnings,
Untold miseries
And unspoken desires,
If not in a friend’s heart?


From the book Memory Rain By Latha Prem Sakhya



Patching Up.

My heart rend –with tiny, tiny, tears.
Have become holes too big for patching up.
The small ones-patched up neatly on time, flourish.
But the bigger ones have left scars
Too thick to hide.
Appearing ugly and painful to sight-
A constant reminder of the bitter agony
I suffered in the name of friendship.

From the book Memory Rain By Latha Prem Sakhya

Down Memory lane

Going down memory lane,
I came to my old homestead-
Where, for seventeen summers
I was nurtured.

The old rambling house, with its spacious rooms;
The sweeping land; the gigantic tamarind trees-
Four great pillars- sentry like
Guarding the terrain.

The second one, nearest to my homestead -
Our favourite haunt! My siblings
And I, with childish enthusiasm, played
Making doll houses and keeping house.

Oh, it was such fun then!
No care, no worries,
Only, innocent mirth and grief.
But alas gliding years,
Weaves a nostalgic dream
Unwinding the spool of yearning,
To regain the golden days of childhood.
From Memory Rain

Love God. The first and greatest commandment, Jesus Christ taught us, is to love the Lord your God
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails....” 1 Corinthians 13:4-8with all your heart and mind and soul and strength