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| K Pankajam |
If leaving homeland is about loss and
longing that linger
It’s also about the riches it brings in,
not to counter.
It’s not alone the sense of loneliness or
alienation intrinsic to migrants
It’s the journey from non-acceptance to
acceptance that matters.
It’s not the loss of identity or hostility
in a new place that matters
It’s about bridging the gaps between
countries and cultures.
It’s not the feeling of rootlessness or
fragmentation one fights against
It’s about the success story becoming one
with the global state.
It’s not the cultural clash, gender or
race biases one confronts
It’s about the experiences passed on to
generations consequent.
Digging deep into ethnic bonds, Indomania
or Indophilia might ascend
as nostalgia can’t nosedive, nor can
newfound urges nullify niceties of native land.
Mantle of migration offering mines of
fortunes manifold, one has to yield
and shuttled between identities, the quest
for a new one wins at the end.
Note: Indomania/Indophilia - refers to
love for India and its culture, history, cuisine, and religions.
Nostalgia
Nostalgia has no sense of time
It enters anywhere, anytime
Even at the most inopportune time
Still a welcome guest, I spread a red
carpet to it.
Riding me through lands of longing
where rushing reminiscences
behave like long lost friends
I’m in its tight embrace.
The vessel of it floats somewhere in my
head
cruising through the webs of memories
those sleep like babes half-fed
and it brings smells and sounds of the
past.
Grandma’s tales I hear, she smiles at me
with betel-stained tooth, couple of them
missing.
Her elongated ears dangle from side to
side
lolacks in them whisper romantic tunes to the
ears.
Smell of palappam and pazhampori
invade my nostrils
I inhale it with a ‘mmm’ sound, gulp down
saliva with a satisfied sigh.
Taste-buds budging I become a babe again.
In this far-away land, I dream of that
yummy breakfast.
My pupils shrink as the light rays appear
like loyal workers.
Let not the light encroach into my dreams
nor put a stop to my enticing train of
thoughts.
Let them have their field day over my
ruminations.
Notes:
Palappam- Kerala
Palappam is made with soaked and ground rice and coconut milk. These lacey
appams make a delicious breakfast.
Pazhampori- A delicious snack in Kerala made out of
ripe banana slit lengthwise after peeling and dipped into a flour batter mixed
with salt, turmeric powder and sugar, and then deep-fried in oil until golden
brown.
Lolacks- In ancient days it was a fashion
statement for older women in Kerala, to get their ears elongated and wear big
studs in them called lolacks.
A
Silent Shift
Speed
breakers are there in hearts too
Some
painted, some plain and unseen
behind
the fogged and fermented thoughts
existing
with diverse degrees of insensibility.
There
are memories to come back to
some
hiding in the folds of forgetfulness
others
shy away from conscious thoughts
all
wait wanting to get fondled, some day.
Feeding
on silence, hearts grow cold
Aloofness
sets out to seek acceptance
Sunset
days mind munches moments of past glories
Sharing,
a need so forceful, too hard to neglect.
Old age
homes enjoy increased patronage.
No
caste, no creed, no gender.
Money,
mindset, market,
all
when meet in straight lines,
a
silent shift in health care takes place
a
crucial change in commitments
an
undefined set of rules in familial inheritance
besides
a digression in people’s perspectives.
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