Eeshita

IG @saree_poem Twitter @EeshitaAzad

[neil-gaiman]

The first three Graphic Novels. In twenty parts. Coming July 15th 2020. Here’s the cast…

The US link is https://www.audible.com/pd/The-Sandman-Audiobook/B086WP794Z and the UK link is https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/The-Sandman-Audiobook/B086WQCVVG 

[eeshita]

[eeshita]

A Poem

Something so stagnant

Us, me and I

Draws you like magnet

Pungent smell of my rot

Hidden under the florescent glare,

Our insurance affair

And debt.

[eeshita]

Random rant, why not?

'The thirst for the arts?'

The politician asks,

'Is it saving lives?

Then It's not a must.

What should come first

is the health conditions

(read restrictions)

of the vulnerable

(the new untouchables)

and mental health.'

Tangible health has now taken the rightful space,

The centre stage

of every webinar,

every conversation,

that take place

behind a screen or a mask.

All of that makes so much sense

that we remain unquenched,

unfulfilled unhappy

until someone decides

The thirst for arts, too, is worthy.

"link it with mental health?

Share the limelight?

Art for arts sake

Is too indulgent. Too greedy

We cannot, should not

partake."

Unless,

we are ourselves are worthy.

A contributing member of the

'having-a-voice' society

Taught with a silver spoon

how to say the right thing

Use the right tone

Do what's right for the silver spoons.

Which is why

It is reasonable for the thirst

to remain unquenched.

The thirst isn't a real thirst.

Unless

it's practicle, useful, data driven

A righteous need

of the spoonfed class.

#poetryofinstagram

#poetry

#politics

[eeshita]

Yes. I said yes.

I always wondered how would i know

When to say yes,

with my heart to follow.

'The one' they say

Makes you feel safe.

How safe?

Safe like the smell of my mum's rice chicken?

Or like being held between the pink walls of my childhood bedroom

Safe like falling asleep in the living room

While dad watches BBC

TV noise drowning out every anxiety

'The one' they say

Will make you feel full of hope

How hopeful?

Like shiny fairground balloons, fiesty

Always slipping the fingers

Going up in hopes of more blue sky?

Or like the first few days of spring?

where ever you walk

The paths are pink with cherry blossoms

And all you can think about is how come

We don't have cherry blossom festival here?

The one they say

Will make you feel whole

And i always wondered how

Because i am not broken or half-made,

Like a clay made bawl!

But my crack appeared slowly

Like the slow lapping water

That errodes the banks of the river

I didn't even realise that i was leaking

Through my broken soul.

Once I've said yes to you

I said yes to your demons too.

[eeshita]

Absence

If you keep fervently, regularly

thinking of someone

you will keep their ghost alive.

They will arrive.

After an all-nighter

the morning after

You'll wake up

Covered in thin film of memory-grey

Feeling laden and heavy.

The sheer quality of it

Will make it shine in sunlight

And you can be forgiven

to think of it as real.

He or she being there.

'This feeling is real!'

But it is not real.

It is the resedue

Of a thing that used to be.

Cannot really heal.

You.

[eeshita]

The Myth

Like all creations in the beginning

there was a woman.

A mother.

Children, brought to a strange land

Seemed lost.

They were brought here by boats.

Boats built of flesh and bones of their father,

Now, they seem lost altogether.

Her songs that tied them together, 

kept them anchored,

Despite the weather,

against the tide of new,

to the shores of old,

could no longer hold them together.

Weak in places,

When they forgot old words,

or well known phrases.

It was coming undone in places.

So she had to create a new language,

mixing the new with the old,

A lilting new song

that flowed like melted gold,

like the river-land they came from...

But also sounded clear and strong

Like the brass bells of churches

Of the new land,

where they now belong.

Sailors' who still sang of old colonies...

Behold, brown poetry was born.

Her daughters vowed

Never to loose sight of the poetry again.

Always adding the new and the forged,

birthing, adopting and surrogating words.

They kept on building on what their mother have taught.

One was called mind

The other was called soul

The youngest was body

Growing, learning and

Turning them into a beautiful whole.

[eeshita]

There is a secret river flowing inside.

Shh quiet!

You'll hear it sigh.

With the delicacy of a daisy chain

It strings us along

With it's stream

From toe to tips

Of our dreams

Even if we wish to hide

The river runs it's course

And we drown inside.

[eeshita]

•

Memories packed densely,

heart safely, securely fastened

within the cage made of bones

I prepare for the leap of faith.

I remind myself again

how I was forged, not raised.

The heat of deep orange,

the glint of hard steal, 

glows inside me, still.

Waiting...

Anything,

stoked by anger or hurt,

lack of air, mirth,

I will become a wildfire.

Burning myself first

then sky, earth, dreams, memories

in an insatiable thirst!

One cannot live like this.

So, the leap.

Faith will follow.

17.02.2021

[eeshita]

•

The void was never filled,

it remains uninhabited still.

Sometimes

the atmosphere is so dense

that breathing

becomes even harder. Still,

other times

most of the time,

the void is really

an empty space.

A clear, clean, blank page.

Anything can happen!

At a crossroad

options open up.

Every road is an invitation

New places, new faces.

At any stage of life,

the beginnings are the true miracles.

To savour and to cherish

to wonder and to live.

The void is not there

for it to be filled,

it is there

to give us a space inside.

It is there,

to turn us into an explorer of galaxies,

of stars,

and the hidden sky we have inside.

•

[eeshita]

০

ডুব

নিজের গভীরে ডুব

প্রথম প্রথম কানে তালা

মাথা ঝিমঝিম, বুক ধড়ফড়,

এলোমেলো আলো ছাড়া।

চুপ

তারপর আসে চুপ।

ধীরে শ্বাস, ঘন প্রশ্বাস,

আলস্য-মাখা দৃষ্টি সুদূর,

তাড়াহীন সময় নিবিড়,

অতীতের লাইব্রেরী ঘেঁটে

নতুন তাকে সাজানো মধুর,

তৃপ্তি । শান্তি।

নিজেকে ফিরে পাওয়া।

০

[eeshita]

°

What is it that holds you back

ask yourself if you know.

We are always taught to

mend the broken.

Never to let go.

What if what you're holding

is poisonous?

infecting your core?

What if it is acidic

rotting your roots,

blocking your pores?

The green of the skin,

the white of our soul,

all of it need light

to keep us intact and whole.

So... what is it

that holds you back?

Ask yourself if you know...

°

[eeshita]

A Thought

23 November, 2020, 6.55 am

My dhaka life was full but manic, layered with most balls up in the air, a kind of heightened existence. If only I knew then, that this quiet, meditative period of calm was waiting for me in the near future! The fact that i still wouldn't change a thing, makes me feel lucky and blessed. This year has been terrible for so many people in so many facets of their lives, ranging from career to personal, that i sometimes feel that i am in the eye of the storm. How else to justify this feeling of being at peace with the world when the world is collapsing for others?

[eeshita]

My Mother The Poet

The artist ruefully tells me

"I couldn't capture her charm"

And I think to myself,

hard task for anyone!

Although she is as clear as water,

that water does run deep.

She walks in the realms of imagination.

She is friends with unimaginable grief.

She wakes up in the morning to dream.

She falls asleep to deal with reality.

She navigates the madness of this world

with childlike trust and curiosity.

She walks into any battlefield

and comes out unscathed,

as if her storyville world is stronger

than our muted world of harsh faith.

She is Lamorisse's red balloon.

And the artist,

whether he realises or not,

is the proverbial little boy

Trying his hardest.

Painting by Muneera Munayem

[eeshita]

My Daughter

25.09.2020

Like a bowl of bubbling milk

you heaved and became full

Overflowing your banks...

thick smell of cream

engulfing us and you.

confused at your own emotions,

the weight of it,

weighing on you.

I look at you and remember

how it was to feel like bottled milk,

rolling side to side,

on a moving deck,

with your ship sailing on blue silk,

blue sky, towards the unknown.

in a minute

you will grow your seagull wings

or become the wind in your sails

or the pink hued cloud

smiling with possibilities.

you don't know it yet

but you're made of magic.

you will always be full in seconds,

but, from now on,

you will be in charge

of the weather around you.

[eeshita]

I still love you

I know that at last.

But it is also

A memory of the past.

It was hard to separate the two...

You and the memory of you!

My heart kept saying

They are the same

But i knew

My memory-you was a call, a text

Every few hours of my day,

lavender smell in my sheets

And tasted like breakfast in bed.

The now-you is a person

Not a stranger but

someone I once knew.

Someone whose smile so distant

My eyes water from the strain to behold.

The voice,

not coated with secrets shared,

It is as if i walked into the wrong house,

And a house so cold!

I know i am still in love

With the memory of love.

Not you.

[eeshita]

May 2020 (the year the world stopped to be safe)

You did not exist in my life

even a few weeks ago.

Now you are omnipresent.

First thing in the morning

Last thought before I go to sleep.

Source of emotions new, unfimilier.

Thoughts that are unique,

all inspired by you.

Sometimes the feelings are contradictory,

thankful to dread,

All in one day!

You are in every conversation

Every story of warning!

Because of you I am looking into my past,

Revisiting mistakes

i've made

Thinking of ways

of atonement.

Because of you

i am thinking

of the future,

A future not just for me

But for our children,

Generations after me

Never before

did i stop and think,

Think before running running towards everything that is shiny,

Everything that can bring gratification instantly!

You have taught me to pause.

To wait.

To think.

To feel.

You have taught me life.

[eeshita]

18.05.2019

"when we finally decided

to let go

it was beautiful!"

I am writing as if 

it has happened already. 

It hasn't.

And we know it.

But when we do...

It will be beautiful.

Like Euthanasia

peaceful and expected.

We will hold hands

and you will kiss me goodbye.

I shall give you my best smile

and tell you

I will always love you.

"never feel alone".

Our memories of each other 

will keep us warm

And the blooms will remain

forever fragrant.