Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Let's ban longing

A post after so long, and sadly, tis a poetry :) Something I wrote a couple of months back, and didn't immediately set on fire because I sort of liked it... and stewed over and fretted over and hemmed and hawed and backfooted over it. I like it because persistent rain and water pouring in through walls is a peculiarly Bombay experience, where it's like the rain takes over our lives - and our homes and our roads - for a bit. 
I think it's a sad poem, and I rarely write sad, so I like it all the more for that. 
Tell me what you think. 

Let’s ban longing.
No more should it be allowed to seep into the mind like rainwater that comes in from the poorly-built window next to the porous wall.
Use newspaper, quickly, in sheaves, to suck up the water that seeps in without pause,
And hope that the rain, with its delirious smells, will stop.
But rain, like longing, knows how to defeat you into quiet hopefulness.
It knows the power of perfume and persistence,
So that finally, all there is, is abject surrender to the wetness.
Let’s ban longing.
Let’s say no more of this shit.
Let’s stop the clouds from gathering droplets into themselves
And swelling up till they can hold it in no more.
Let’s sit by our feeble selves and protest.
Let’s ban clouds from gathering and letting go of their promise at our windows.


Anonymous said...

Hey that's really nice. I'd love to ban longing too, buf it if is banned, I wouldn't know what I'm missing, the ache! It's painful but oh, what's a little pain for all the joys of longing?

Anita said...

Haha, Anonymous, so true. And anyway, it's impossible to ban, so have fun! :) I guess some of us here are way too old to *enjoy* the ache, and are, frankly, tired of it ;) Moving on, a name would be nice!

Paritosh Shah said...

Dear Anita,
I was waking up my son this morning and he kept telling me "don't do that". This was quickly turned into "don' du dat" and Dhondu and the rotten eggs came tumbling out of my mouth. This stirred many memories from my first standard at school, but other than the fat Dhondu as illustrated my Mario Miranda, and the vague blurred details of the title, I do not remember anything of the story itself. My son asked me why I had said what I had, which led to an online search, leading me to your blog.
Would it be possible for you to post a brief synopsis of the story if you still remember it?

Unknown said...

Paritosh, what a beautiful, quirky story to tell me 'don'du dat' :) I'm grinning! I have no memory o the story, but I will ask my school friends and get back! Am so delighted you stopped to comment!