Earth Melodies: Shailja Sharma

Shailja Sharma

Spring

a zillion rainbows in the sky

the grey palette splashing color

hopes being born 

eyes sparkling 

leaves whispering a secret

in the ear of Mother Earth

“Grey times don’t last forever”

the sun adorns her face eventually

and she re-emerges through darkness 

sowing seeds of promise

every new season

flowers renew

butterflies flutter

the Earth chuckles at the

new beginnings within

the belly of Earth

the baby is named- spring

spring!

***

September

  fruits and flowers 

half ripe/half raw

my thoughts cook, stew, and thaw

then perch up high on 

September trees 

branches whispering

leaves crunching

my vision dusky/bright

September light

flowers tired of blooming

soul naturally grooming

new endings/new beginnings

my heart hatches open to the inner door:

I am September 

for years, many more!

---

Setu, October 2024

Shailja Sharma

Shailja Sharma (Ph.D.), USA, is a mental health provider and a multilingual author. Apart from scholarly publication and editorial service, her literary writings have been widely published. Dr. Sharma’s publications have appeared in many literary journals/forums of repute across USA, Canada, UK, and Asia. Her writings have appeared in #1 Best Selling anthologies published nationally and internationally. Dr. Sharma’s poetry book, “Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry,” by Setu, Pittsburgh, has been critically acclaimed. She was awarded a special literary honor for her writing contributions in international languages.

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Authors A-Z

काव्य (शैलजा शर्मा) अंग्रेज़ी से अनूदित

हिंदी अनुवाद सीमा जैन (द्विभाषीय कवयित्री अनुवादिका एवं सम्पादिका सेवानिवृत एसोसिएट प्रोफेसर तथा अंग्रेजी विभागाध्यक्षा क. म. वि. जालंधर)

शैलजा शर्मा

मेरी गली

चमकीला छिद्रित आवरण और आँखोँ में कहानियाँ

सूरज की गुनगुनी धूप इसके बजरी बिखरे चेहरे पर

इसके गड्ढों में पानी जैसे स्वेद किसी चंचल बालक का

आम के दरख़्त की शाखाएँ मानो इसकी गुंथी हुई चोटियाँ

मेरी गली ----

मिनी मार्किट से कुछ फर्लांग दूर

जहाँ मिलता था बचपन का स्वाद

मिनी मार्किट में रहती है चहल पहल अभी भी

नन्हे-नन्हे ग्राहकों की

अजनबी फेरीवालों की कतार घूम-घूम कर अच्छे दिखने वाले फलों को बेचते हुए

अनखुली अखबारों के गिर्द मंडराते व्यथित पँछी

मेरी मासूम गली अब आबाद है नए मालिकों से

कुछ यादें दफ़न हैं उन घरों के नीचे जिन्होंने आधिपत्य जमाया था गुमनाम खेल के मैदानों पर

खेलने की जगह अब शायद बदल गई होगी

मांओं को फ़िक्र है बच्चे कहीं खो न जाएँ भीड़ भाड़ भरी सड़कों पर

जैसे खो जातीं हैं छोटी सड़कें एक बड़ी सी दुनिया में

वक़्त ले आया है मुझे बहुत दूर उस सड़क से

थक गयी हूँ मैं

मगर मेरा बचपन आज भी खेलता है वहीं कहीं

अकेले अपने आप

उस सड़क पर जहाँ मैं पली बढ़ी

जहाँ बसता है मेरा दिलो-दिमाग अभी भी

वो गली जो मुझे ले जाती है आसमान तक

और करती है मेरी कल्पना में

मेरा स्वागत बाँहें पसार कर!

(लिटरेरी यार्ड जुलाई 2021; अकादमी ऑफ़ हार्ट एंड माइंड जनवरी 2022; पुस्तक 'डिअर ममा' सेतु फ़रवरी 2022 में प्रकाशित)

सीमा जैन

***

My Street

(Original English Version By Shailja Sharma)

Shiny porous skin and

eyes full of story. Sun's sweet heat

glowing on its loose graveled

face. Rainwater resting in its

pits like sweat of a playful child.

The branchy mango tree-- its

braided hair. My street.

My street stood only laps

away from the Mini-Market

where flavors of childhood were sold.

The Mini Market is still

booming with new little customers.

A parade of unfamiliar vendors

walks with their better-looking fruit.

Stressed birds flutter around

unopened newspapers.

My innocent street is now

populated with swapped

owners. Some memories

are buried under their houses

which colonized

the untitled playgrounds.

Play may be happening

somewhere else now. Mothers

worry little ones

could get lost on busy streets.

Just as small streets get lost

in a big world.

Time has travelled me far

beyond that street. I am tired.

But my childhood continues to

play over there. By itself.

On that street, where I grew up

and where I continue to grow

by mind's extension. That street

which pushes me to the sky

and then stands for me

open-armed in my mind's vision.

(Published in Literary Yard, July 2021; Academy of Heart and Mind, January 2022; Setu, February 2022)

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सेतु, अगस्त 2023

Voices Within: Shailja Sharma

Shailja Sharma is a multi-lingual author and a mental health provider. Her poetry book, “Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry,” is under publication with Setu, and several books are upcoming (e.g., a poetry collection on mindfulness with ABP Press). Apart from her scholarly publication/editorial service, her poetry has been widely published and anthologized published nationally and internationally. Recent credits: Spillwords, Literary Heist, Piker Press, Better Than Starbucks, Life in 10, Masticadores, and elsewhere. Her Hindi poetry is published in newspapers/literary/scholarly magazines. Recent Credits: Sahityanama, Delhi Navodit Sahitya Manch, Sahitya Kalash, Amar Ujala, and elsewhere. She is awarded special literary honors for her writing contributions.

Just As

With a bamboo stick and a gallon of ink

With an injured stature and much blood

We sang songs of

Petals that could have been roses

Sounds that could have been music

Wombs that could have produced

The boy that never became a man

With a fuller stature and a clearer image

We now sing songs of birds that

Perch freely on roses

Because memories are important

As long as they let birds fly and soar

Not when they pull them back

And put them in confines

Leave the memory and

Smell and sip and live the rose

The day looks just as it was meant to be

***

Party 

Many words are wasted 

But much is left unsaid

Appetizers vanishing quickly as youth 

Thirsty souls sipping restlessly

Empty bottles rattling in loud music

Egos dancing on many tunes 

Bodies too

Needles of the clock racing round and round

Time to empty plates

Time to settle floating thoughts

Time to patch up conflicts 

Time to rest egos and dancing feet

Before the sun cracks up the dark sky 

Party must end 

Make-up will be wiped off of face and soul

Shimmering satins and jewels will let loose 

Ties will come off from necks and hearts 

So will the body 

The party is ending and I must leave

My ride awaits out the door 

I must walk out this venue 

Party must end

***

Wild Night

Night's wild locks are open

Stars like sparkling hairpins

Trying to tuck them in

Youthful night will end

Into a clear day

Clear of mystery

Clear of the night’s beauty and charm

Naked to stark reality

The day pure like death

Will stand and stare through

No matter how much the sky

Sparkles all night

***

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Setu, February 2022

New Setu Books

Dear Readers,

Great news to share with you. After great success of Voices Within, the anthology of beautiful poetry in English by 82 contemporary poets, Setu presents three more books for your reading pleasure.

• Dear Mama: An Immigrant's Secret Cry (Shailja Sharma)
• Autumn in America & Other Poems (Brindha Vinodh)
• मानवीय अभिप्रायोंकी डगर (चंद्रमोहन भण्डारी)

Autumn in America & Other Poems

Dear Mama: An Immigrant’s Secret Cry

मानवीय अभिप्रायों की डगर

Stay safe,

Anurag Sharma

Setu, Pittsburgh

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Setu, February 2022

Poetry: Shailja Sharma

Shailja Sharma

The Silhouette
 
Whose milk is in my bones,
whose blood is in my veins,
marks of her lap
my body carries-
tearing off the sky,
my eyes can still witness
a Silhouette
 
A Silhouette...
with a bun at the back
gold earrings hanging in either ear
a chain swirling out
the fragrance of her sandal wood
purified my room
 
Your hair was dipped in scented oil
always combed to perfection
the softness of your fabric
smoothed my worries
eyes were sharper than a magnifying glass
 
Grandmother, when you were gone,
one corner of my square broke for ever...
tearing off the sky,
my eyes can still witness
A Silhouette-
vaster than the sky
I still feel you, Grandmother....
***

 
Blueberries
 
Often on bright afternoons,
a cart of blueberries moved through
hustling-bustling streets of my home-town
Suddenly, one day,
the wheel stuck into debris,
the cart cracked,
and blueberries rolled down one after one, and another
 
My berries were crumbled
by rude tires
and hasty feet
yet...traces grooved deep in heart
 
Time elapsed,
but it still pains
when I eat a blueberry
 
Blueberries tasted much sweeter
in your lap
your wrinkled hands
knew the art
of tossing them in home-made salt
 
Each wrinkle summed up
the story of generations,
of human existence
Grandmother, your blue-berry sized
life-span gave me
a crippling peek
into death and its non-negotiability
and the myth called life
 
-the myth that I claim
to be a part of....
***
 
 
Chandrakala
 
In her purple Banarasi sari
with a heavy border,
slightly pulling her down
while tilting the left strands of her
hair towards the floor
 
She walks behind her own shadow-
a shadow filled with naughty glimpses
from the present
and from the future
which no one has yet seen,
but Chandrakala herself can feel
 
There are emotions
tucked in in her
imperfect pleats as
she does not like
pinning up her sari’s crease
 
Chandrakala’s emotions are silly and funny,
yet they remind her
of womanhood-
a womanhood that only
a good pair of male eyes
can assure
 
Chandrakala is confused
about those eyes
about how her pleats begin
to unsettle when she is not
even moving….
in her heart too,
minor unsettling begins
making her want to dance,
in fancy dance moves
 
She gets naughtier
smiling at her own shadow,
which she has been following
but could never quiet catch-
she is in love with her shadow
and with everyone who helped cast it even darker
including the haunting pairs
of male eyes
 
Chandrakala wishes to be haunted-
her mind will never settle perhaps
she does not like to pin up
the creases of her sari
yet, she can get back straight
by her own shadow
and stand tall in her Purple Banarasi
 
That is Chandrakala,
a damsel so beautiful,
in her own ways
 
You don’t believe the poet?
ask the pair of male eyes
***
 
 
Cockroaches
 
Thoughts of you
are like cockroaches
I kill them
and they occur
in multitudes again
Afraid of day-light
perhaps, in night they reproduce?
Each object
each person and each particle
of air around me
Whatever I feel, hear, touch, speak,
smell, eat, or see,
is pre-contaminated
by
thoughts of you.
*** 

Dr. Shailja Sharma has been serving in the field of psychology for over twenty years. Her experience in serving people with special needs allows her to create literature full of compassion that easily touches the heart. Her educational background in psychology and literature allows her a unique perspective and a holistic treatment of themes in her poetry. Her poems have been published in Indian magazines and have been relayed on radio shows.

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Setu, April 2021