Sunday, March 1, 2020



The Umbilical Cord

I sit back in the armchair, with a blissful smile and lost eyes.
I can only see the sonogram and his picture.
All the accompanying symptoms, morning sickness, gum bleeding, hair fall - every bit worth it.

They put him in my arms.
He gazes back straight at me.
Miracle of life, the most beauteous sight.
Our heartbeats beat in tandem.
He immediately knows, I'm his mum.
Wailing at being taken away, clinging with his tiny arms.

He knows the voice,
he knows the touch.
He recognizes my heart,
his eyes never leave my face.
He knows no one else.
No one matters.
The newborn child knows one emotion only - love!
Love for his mother!

An eternal bond, bound by an umbilical cord.
Today, once again, a mother and child are born.
An eternal love,
the purest of them all.
The End

In The Moors

It's a dark, dark night.
An eerie stillness in the air.
Where's the wind?
Has it blown off somewhere?
Lost its way
in its wild, meandering way?
Or is this a forgotten place
where only pensive souls
reach when astray.

The moors call me
as I wander through the night.
Inevitably I find myself heading there.
Sitting on the side I contemplate on its beauty that dark night.

It's chilly, and I wrap my scarf around.
Complete peace.
Hush! My heartbeats, don't beat so loud!
The silence is pure,
a pristine night.
Don't vilify it.

I sat there for hours,
soaking in the quiet.
A deep peace prevailed.
The moors merged into the sky
in a seamless veil,
hiding all vices and vicissitudes of life,
the cacophony of constant stress,
ceaseless efforts at achieving equilibrium.

But here in this vast emptiness,
where even light treads a wary step,
there's calm,
and solitude
and a serenity caressing the soul gently.

Where better to retreat into the mind?
That vast, empty space
which when purged will be ready
to open its arms to
the wisdom of being.
When silence will speak its special words
and convey the meaning
lost in the medley of sounds.

When the quietness will whisper
and the signs of serendipity appear.

The minutes ticked by
in deep bliss.
A cloud moved away.
In the distance a drake flew by
in respectful silence.
The End

Waking Up Alone

How many years now? I forget.
I forget many things nowadays.
Have you eaten? She asks me daily,
but I can't say.
Have I eaten, I ask the attendant?
I'm 91 this month, I tell my daughter.
And you are doing wonderfully,  she replies.
We talk, daily.
And late into the night when she's here.

It's over 12 years Mom's been alone.
She hurried into the trench with the kids
when Dad was away during the wars.
She moved through military bases with him,
the backbone of the family.
She was his refuge after hard days,
she was his strength powering him on
when he had to be away.

She nursed him in those last years with love and care nonpareil.
She made him meals he would never forget.
They never argued.
He never raised his voice.
She was the law at home.
He made sure we never contested that.

So powerful a relationship,
so strong the commitment.
A beautiful marriage
kept beautiful till the very end.

Fifty two years later,
torn apart from her beloved.
Crippled in health,
left with a legacy of precious moments.

She went through the motions daily,
cleaning his trophies,
preserving his things,
painstakingly looking after the house they'd made together,
performing every family duty on her own.

The dining table was unused nowadays.
She eat alone, on the bedside table.
But her mind was far,
far away.
To when they met,
their first holiday.
The elder one's chicken pox,
the Puja functions.

As she goes through umpteen moments,
her eyes become drowsy
and she falls asleep to the sounds of a full family in her mind's ears.

The bird calls very early every morning,
and she unfailingly responds.
It's 4 am.
She wakes up alone.
It has been this way for over a decade.
The End


NANDITA DE NEE CHATTERJEE: Writer/ freelance journalist/housewife. Formerly with Economic Times. Cover stories and Feature Writer with Statesman, Illustrated Weekly of India, Economic Times, Telegraph, Times of India, Femina, Filmfare, Voix Meets Mode, UK, Was Part Time Lecturer at Calcutta University Journalism department, PG for 7 months. Was Consulting Editor, Environ. Launched Economic Times Marketplace for ET. Editing experience. Co Author, Big Bang of Non- Fiction, Life in Reverse; 30 Best Poets; Sea; Coffee and Echos; Wrapped Up Feelings; Christmas in my Heart in 2019. Have a digital magazine and group, Studio Quaintrelle. Participate in major digital literary forums Poetry Planet, Asian Literary Society, Literature Lovers Association, Realistic Poetry International,, Let's Make Stories, Our Poetry Archive, Plethora Blogazine, Wonder Women World Writers, English Literature, Significant League, Gully Writers, Beyond the Box, Women's Web etc.

1 comment :

  1. great imagery dear poet. a sincere approach of humanity and deep rooted love. wonderful poems. wish you more success.