The Shoes

one step followed the other Tuck, tuck on the ground the favorite pair of shoes lovingly bore my weights in different 1scales giving comfort and joy for innumerable seasons. its enduring sacrifice! After thousands of foot steps synchronizing the heart beats! Now it had to be halted as the shoes bore holes and no cobbler could make it whole. Help beyond expectations the truth now revealed journey had to end forever Life;s destiny followed its path.

War against a tiny Intruder

War against a tiny intruder Tiny spider crawling, An enemy in my room! My tapping feet to scare it off yield no result Running his heart in the mouth Suddenly froze into death. Motionless, it watched my steps. My eyes focused on it. My feet remained rooted The tiny enemy .remained frozen in eternity I became an impatient onlooker,. The gravity of war heightened A changed strategy was all I needed . My feet moved toward it, The creature acknowledged the oncoming danger Ran as fast as it could and Hid by the side of the mat. Seeing its desperate attempt to save its life, .My decision to leave it alone Was now the only choice, I had no skill to communicate with it That my intention was to let it out of the room without a pinch of harm. It was left alone by the side of the mat But my inquisitiveness brought me to the spot And found it gone from its hiding place, Climbing up on the white wall it rested with a sigh of relief. With a peace of soft tissue paper in hand The tiny spider was picked up carefully And flipped it off the tissue outside the house. As if breathing like a thunderstorm It ran away toward the cover of the grass., The tiny creature won the war It gave me the enlightened vision That for every living being Life is as precious as anyone else.

Haunted Memory by Jamuna Devi Advani

Haunted Memory. Jiribam, Manipur, India June,1942 (North East India) It was the scorching sun which made my grandmother hold her umbrella with her left hand while she held my little hand in her right. The sun was not in a hurry to go down toward west and seemed to be busy torching us on this side of planet. As a seven year old I did not bother much about hot weather. Bubbling with enthusiasm and anticipation of getting sweet rice balls at the Friday Market I walked chattering with never ending questions which kept my grandmother occupied with answers. An unexpected sight caught my attention and I pulled my grandmother’s hand. We stood for few seconds and saw the teen aged boy with slightly protruding belly sitting on the rock, his sack placed on the dirt road and eyes closed. His hands crossed on his chest as if trying to protect himself from the cold. It was a hot day but he was shivering. My grandma pulled me and walked ahead leaving the boy alone without saying anything. I became inquisitive, “Grandma, what has happened to him? Why is he shivering?” “He will be okay, once his shivering is gone he will walk to his destination.” she replied. She also mentioned that she had seen before some of the villagers doing the same thing while the attack of malarial fever came over to them. But I kept thinking about that boy. His faded loin cloth and his facial feature indicated he was from a tribal community and most probably a poor farmer’s son from the hills. My grandmother being from a higher caste would avoid touching any one like him The caste system was predominant factor during my grandmother’s time in the 1940s. Along with the struggle for independence from Britain, Mahatma Gandhi was a strong advocate against the caste system. Hence after independence the caste system was abolished completely. But the memory of this incident haunts me till this day. Did any one help him get to the hospital and receive treatment? I wonder if that boy survived till he reached his adulthood.

Night Hours

While I stood facing the West
Saw the sun giving away to night
As the darkness engulfed the entire universe
A speck of peace came along with it,
The host of this universe blew kisses
And turned into stars ,
My mind swam along with the stars
In the cosmic ocean.
Drifted to the shore of happiness,
Away from the muck of life
A sparkled wish entered my heart
And as I cling to my last breath
I will say I love the whole universe.

Vengeance

The unforgettable moment,
The torture!
You knuckled, punched, slapped me,
you swirled and swooshed me,
squeezed and beat me,
whirled and twirled me around,
when I reeled and rolled,
you tossed me into the fire.
I stood with a vengeance,
“I shall show you
my true color!”
And he just smiled and gleamed!
There stood in cool, calm,
an angelic feature in glaze.
The miracle just happened
out of the potter’s hand!


Written by Jamuna Devi Advani

Memorabilia

Memorabilia.

The sweet fragrance of love
and friendship left at each
corner of life’s turning point,
as bunches of love filled reminiscence,
at the lanes passed by,
each is as precious as the other.

Those childhood friends
at one side of the shore
and adulthood on the other,
bridged by the adolescence and
teenage of uncertain wilderness,
captured as unsung sweet memories,
assembled in the basket of nostalgia,
now tied with the ribbon of days gone by.

My eyes cannot withdraw but hold
those bouquets of tender moments.

(published in Trivalley Writers Club Anthology, January 2012)

Cradle

CRADLE
Wings of the luminous light
Flapping,
The angelic features,
and elusive
Piercing trough the cloud’s crevices
Rushes toward the muffled sound of heart beat
With an alluring smile of a mother
Arms stretched, reaches
to swaddle
and cuddle like that of
the new born baby
to be placed
On the soft cradle of a life
Forthcoming.
Let the unknown future wait
But for now longing only for
The hands tenderly rocking the
“The eternal cradle of peace and love.”
Of the New Year