love sometimes lies so deep that it never shows
there is no time to excavate the truths
the face a surface of many lies
when all you want to show is love, it hides

~Abha Iyengar, 5th February, 2011

The Way Out

Painting my face may help.

Strong lines of white,

yellow and red.

My body a deep purple.

He likes me scrubbed clean.

Every tiny morsel.


I could wear

a feather head dress.

Tomahawk in hand,

dance the Voodoo.

Throw some magic.

Bring the rain.

Pierce his heart.

Blood may taste fine.


They say a bear

licks a man’s feet

and kills him with laughter.

I could become a bear.


(C) ABHA IYENGAR, First publsihed in Up the Staircase, Issue 10, August 2010

‘The Last Breath’ by Abha Iyengar

I've danced
with dervishes
And whirled
to their wishes
In dreams that swirled
So very fast.

I have lived
With the ghosts
Of my past
They continue to haunt
unburied
To the last.

I close my eyes
And nightmares speak
Of death and deliverance.
Heaven, hell, retribution,
Salvation, words that make
No sense.
(C) ABHA IYENGAR. (first published in sage of consciousness issue 2.2)

kya karoon sanvedana lekar tumhari? kya karoon? by Shri Harivansha Rai Bachchan

main dukhi jab-jab huaa
sanvedana tumane dikhaee,
main krtajny huaa hamesha,
riti dono ne nibhaee,
kintu is aabhar ka ab
ho utha hai bojh bhari;
kya karoon sanvedana lekar tumhari?
kya karoon?

yek bhi uchchhvas mera
ho saka kis din tumhara?
us nayan se bah saki kab
is nayan ki ashru-dhara?
saty ko moonde rahegi
shabd ki kab tak pitari?
kya karoon sanvedana lekar tumhari?
kya karoon?

kaun hai jo doosaron ko
du:kh apana de sakega?
kaun hai jo doosare se
du:kh usaka le sakega?
kyon hamare bich dhokhe
ka rahe vyapar jari?
kya karoon sanvedana lekar tumhari?
kya karoon?

kyon n ham len mana, ham hain
chal rahe aisi dagar par,
har pathik jis par akela,
dukh nahin bantte paraspar,
doosaron ki vedana mein
vedana jo hai dikhata,
vedana se mukti ka nij
harsh keval vah chhipata;
tum dukhi ho to sukhi main
vishv ka abhishap bhari!
kya karoon sanvedana lekar tumhari?
kya karoon?

****

“What will I do with your Compassion? What will I?” by Shri Harivansha Rai Bachchan
(Translation into English)

Whenever I have been sad,
You have shown compassion
And I have been grateful
Both of us followed the norm
But now this goodness of yours
Has become a heavy burden
What can I do with your compassion?
What can I do?

When has it been possible
For even a breath of mine to become yours?
That from your eyes may pour
the tears that flow from my eyes?
How long will the box of words
Keep hidden the secret truths
What can I do with your compassion?
What can I do?

Who can give his pain
And share it with another?
Who can share the pain that
Belongs to another?
Why should we continue
the business of being false with each other?
What can I do with your compassion?
What can I do?

Why don’t we acknowledge that
We are walking on a path
Where each traveller walks alone
And we cannot share our sorrows
He who exhibits his sorrow
Seeing another’s pain,
Really is hiding his happiness
That he is free from this pain
We are happy when
Another is unhappy
This is the curse
Of the world upon us
What can I do with your compassion?
What can I do?

(Translation of Shri Harivansh Rai Bachchan’s poem, ‘Kya Karoon Samvednaa Lekar Tumhaari? Kyaa Karoon?” by Abha Iyengar)

Kabhii kisii ko mukammal jahaaN nahiin milataa~ Nida Fazli (3)

Kabhii kisii ko mukammal jahaaN nahiin milataa
kahiin zamiin to kahiin aasmaaN nahiin milataa


Jise bhii dekhiye vo apane aap mein gum hai
zubaaN milii hai magar ham_zubaaN nahiin milataa


Bujhaa sakaa hai bhalaa kaun vaqt ke shole
ye aisii aag hai jis mein dhuaaN nahiin milataa


Tere jahaan mein aisaa nahiin ke pyaar na ho
jahaaN ummiid ho is kii vahaaN nahiin milataa.



English translation: Kabhi Kissi Ko Mukammal JahaN Nahiin Milataa



No one ever gets a perfect world

Sometimes the earth is missing and sometimes the sky.


Each one seems to be lost in oneself

One has the tongue but no one to understand the words


Who has been able to douse the flames of time!

This is the kind of fire that emits no smoke


It is not that your world is devoid of love

Just that, it is not found where one hopes it will be.

~Nida Fazli

Translated by Mohammad Ahsaan/ Abha Iyengar, May 25th 2009

Translation: (2) Nida Fazli ~ 'Dil Mein Na Ho Jurrat'

Without audacity in the heart, you don’t get love,

You don’t get this wealth of love in mere charity.


Many folks in this town are unhappy with me,

I too am not inclined towards every one.


Perhaps it was someone else I noticed, though

Not a soul here that does not resemble you.


The bazaar is all glamour with faces that laugh,

No way it seems one has the leisure to cry!


Take this candlelight while stepping out of the home,

For troubles are not there to grace your solitude.


...[Nida Fazli]


Translated by Mohammad Ahsaan / Abha Iyengar, 18th May 2009

At Your Grave

[a translation of Nida fazli's Urdu nazm]



I did not come to read
the fateha at your grave.
I knew you cannot die.

He who spread the word of your death
is a liar.

It was never you
but a dry leaf fallen with the wind.

My eyes
are still trapped in your landscapes.
Whatever I see or perceive is
Only the world of your deeds and misdeeds.

Nothing has changed.

Your hands breathe in my fingers,
as I hold my paper and pen to write.

I find you sitting in my chair.
Your failures and trippings run the blood in my body.

Your mind lies hidden within my voice.
In my illnesses there is you.
In my helplessness there is you.

The one who engraved your name on your grave
is a liar.
In your grave there,
I lie dead.

You are alive in me!
You are alive!

Whenever you have some free time,
walk in to read the fateha on my grave.

****
fateha - quranic verses , read at the grave by relatives and friends for the benefit of the dead.

This nazm by Nida Fasli translated into English by Mohammad Ahsaan / Abha Iyengar, 19th April 2009.

EVERYTHING PLANNED

We had planned everything
Down to the last ‘e’
Or is it ‘t’?
Nothing else was questionable
Or in doubt.
His admission papers
The fees,
Even a new motorbike
Which he so desired
Synonymous with his freedom.

His clothes all packed
He was ready to go
A rider on his steed
Bidding goodbye with a smile
And a shake of his golden locks
Which he grew long
An indulgence of youth.

We were well prepared.
We turned away to stem
The tide waiting
To burst its banks.
I did not wish him to see me cry
Or wipe a tear from my husband’s eye.


Abha Iyengar
(first published in poetsonline)

ON LOVE ( A rondeau)

Come and see how the rivers flow
And down below the voices crow
with delight, on nations might,
admire those that always fight
in the midst of love.

Come and see the skies above
Even as those who push and shove
trample the weak and stand up proud
to proclaim out loud above the crowd
and laugh at the folly of love.

Do not see the blossoms fall
like tears on those they do enthrall
with their beauty, for a moment though
because the world has told them so
there is nothing called love.

Abha Iyengar (first published march 2003)

SOME DAYS I FORGET TO SMILE

Some days I just forget to smile.

I open my eyes to a bedroom wall
Whose plastic paint has long ago ceased to be plastic
As it falls of more like coloured powder
on to the higgledy piggledy pile of shoes below
Like make up unsuitable
A matt finish on surfaces those look good when glossy.

I look at the window
The rain has been hard enough
To enter my room
Through gaps in shut glass and rusted iron
And drip onto the floor
Where precautionary newspaper spreads
Litter themselves to soak up the irreverent water spills.
The floor looks well read, soaking up knowledge through
Wet newsprint.

I stare at myself
And dread putting on my clothes
The bra makes the skin
Under my breast itch
And the underwear
Rubs against my thighs
Friction of a kind I can do without.
A loose sweat shirt is all I care for.
But that won't do.

So I just forget to smile.

Till I hear the woman next door
Hollering at her kids,
And the old man on the other side
Whimpering in his bed.
And I remind myself
Things could be worse.

I have to remember to smile.

(C) ABHA IYENGAR

Fisrt published, M.A.G. 2003

Side by Side, Not to Collide
by Abha Iyengar
(Based on art by Gopal M. S.)

We are lovers and we kiss
But our religions don't mix
So when we stand in line for water
We cannot stand together.
Side by side, yes,
But we will drink from different cups,
From different clay-pots.
Tell me,
Does your water taste different from mine?
If I filled the same in my mouth
And poured it into yours
We would both be defiled.
We are lovers, but the world does not know it
Skin on skin
Sweat on sweat
Breath on breath
Yet
We stand in parallel paths
Which do not cross or touch
When we drink from different cups
So close we are
Together almost,
But see that thin dividing line
Drawn deftly on the clay pots
This is yours; this is mine.
The water that flows freely
Is now captured separately.
In the name of religion
This is how it has to be.
The road we walk is different
But see the irony,
We are lovers
Who drink from each other's lips
Yet,
Drink water separately.
Skin on skinS
weat on sweat
Breath on breath
Yet,
The world will keep us from it.
Fill us in clay pots like this water
That we drink.
Tell us our gods are different,
Our vessels, our thinking,have no link.
I see you raise your arm
And dash it against the clay
Again and again you do it,
There is no stoppingyou today.
Now the earthen potsare broken.
The water gushes and flows,
It has no separate rows.
(C) ABHA IYENGAR
January 2008, first posted in Clockwise Cat

Do Not Wear the Shroud of Fear

I have no words to speak against terror.
They explode within my throat,
Like dynamite unplugged,
Like a grenade
With the pin removed.

What words can I say against terror?
I have already said a lot
Cry a red tear, I have said
Filled with the blood of loss
Loss of loved ones
Loss of freedom and liberty
What use this democracy?
If we stumble on the streets.
Like wounded dogs.
Wearing the shroud of fear
Cowering like hunted animals
For no wrong done?
Being held hostage by fidayeen
At the other end of the gun.
Being probed by media,
Exposed and questioned,
Even as we mourn our loved one?
In parks, temples, hotels, trains
We have not chosen this sudden death
Our bodies scream in pain.
Do I need words against terror then?

The lighting of candles is not enough, we need to be tough.
Shine a strong light on closed, sleeping eyes
Strike out, move and take a stand for broken lives
Together, fight the terror.
It is a time for action, the time for words is over.

I have no words against terror.
My throat is dry, it burns.
My eyes are wet.
My land and people should not be bled.
Throttle terror; ask the world to join us
Far and hatred will not confine us.

I can speak then, once again, with words.
Just now, its simply pain that screams to be heard.
A chain saw grating to sever a limb
Constant, constant.

(c) ABHA IYENGAR, 5th December 2008
Recited at Kamala Nehru College, Delhi University 'Words Agáinst Terror' meet of writers and poets, 12th December 2008.

Colourless

From the green forests we came
Black and lush
In our beauty—
Thick lipped, black eyed,
Muscular and strong.

From the desert sands we came
Olive and flush
In our beauty—
Strong jawed, sharp eyed,
Hawk nosed riders of the storm.

From far flung corners we came,
Different colors, brushed
With our beauty—
And lost it all to the
White colorless norm.

Merged into this vision
Of one color of no color.
Drained of our identity—
Blank faced, dull eyed,
We learnt to conform.

A Table, Two Poems

What we have is
A table.
Two poems.

And a conversation
That neither of us began.

But as we speak the lines
We say everything in between.
We spill
Over the distance of the table
That separates us.

We move our legs back
Under and behind our chairs
Scared of touching
That which lies
beneath the lines.
Knowing that we will overflow
Over and above
The table
Knocking it over
Sometime
Anytime
Even as our bodies strain
To keep back
All that drives us forward.
Two poems
And a conversation.

What I Fear

Wear the colors of war,
My husband,
See how the red and the yellow
Smear your forehead
With valor.
And your eyes
Turn black with desire
To vanquish the foe.
Your sword shines steel
A glint in the sun,
Your helmet is plumed
With the feathers of the peacock
Blue-green and gold.
Your body is anointed
with sandal paste
perfumed with
the incense
of a hundred lamps
lit at night
already
proclaiming your glory.
What do you have to fear?

My feet are black
With the dust
Of destruction.
I lick dry lips
And wonder at the taste
Of ash,
Grey in my mouth.
I ride my steed hard
To return home
To be with you,
my wife.
All I can see
Is the river-red
Of blood
I let flow
In the battlefield.
I have won darkness for myself.
This is what I fear.

Do not anoint me for war anymore.
My tears are falling.

****

First published in Arabesques Review

http://clockwisecat.blogspot.com/2008/03/one-themed-poem-by-abha-iyengar.html

'Waiting' Photo by Abha (2007)

A Little Time

Wait a while my love

Why do you rush by so

See how patient is the world

Waiting for evermore

They too have trains to catch,

planes to ride,

children to greet, wives at home

Do know once you are gone

I too will return,

Retrace my steps

but this love

It just needs a little time

Give it to me in your smile

Your hand that strays to my side

Say you will stay a moment more

This moment to last me a life, the

Wheels to turn real slow.

Wait a while my love

Why do you rush by so.

~Abha, 2008, February 18th

Visual Art by Gopal M. S.

"Then Go, Then Wait"

Red and green seats
Bright beacons
In the night
Traffic lights
Asking you to stop a while
Then go
Perhaps you have nowhere
Then wait
Under this yellowed tree.
That's what nights are for,
Waiting,
While the city lights
Crowd your mind
With what they can offer
At a distance
At a price.
But wait a while
In this circle
You may just dance the night away.

***
(c) Artwork: Gopal M.S. 2007-2008
(c) Poem: Abha Iyengar 2008