Poetry at Sangam
Poetry at Sangam showcases poetry in English and translations as well as essays on poetics and news of new releases.
As usual you came and stood at the door.
Saying nothing.
If I could I would garland your lips
with a fistful of words to hear from you
those flaming sounds you desire from me.
I could not read your face but the burn
of your glance I felt.
Felt in my blood
that today you’d come, come for me
alone.
When you came I was sure
you came to listen to my breath alone.
That you would enter
my ravaged breast like
the breath of spring.
But you are rooted to a spot
while the vine of my words
has snapped.
You don’t know the shapes you cast me in–
I came like Lal and *rose
weeping at the waning of night.
I woke you up, Mad One, and you learnt to speak.
I was like Habba Khatun and called you* my sky
called myself the earth and you the cover
arching over my secrets.
I became your garden and asked you to come,
come and taste its treasures.
Which rival seduced you?
Wait
and remember – *it was I who held you in
my lap and sang. I would festoon
you under the cherry trees. I kept each fast, praying
you’d stay awhile.
Throughout the night I read each and
every Quranic verse for love
of you.
Should you come as Krishna, wearing disguises
I will be your Meera
keeping step with you.
Should you heed slander and demand
my innocence, I will stand in shooting
flames chanting, ‘Ram, Ram’!
God commanded, *‘Inhale the fragrance from
that bottle. To you will be born a messiah but sans
ceremonies, henna, nuptials. As Mother Mary how
my value rose.
But the cuts caused by slurs smeared
each step I took, calumny trailed me.
You didn’t ever
seek my consent.
Ah. The masks you gave me.
Was a single one mine?
When I wept you said, “You have no restraint.”
When I tried to speak you stifled me with a kiss.
No, I am not
like you. Nor like my images you conjure in dreams.
You are you. And I have my own being.
Should you want to race you’ll find a competitor here.
A separate being.
This you must know.
Alone as Adam and forgotten you’d be,
as each angel bowed to you, exhausted he’d be.
Who’d know of you if I hadn’t
tempted you? That apple tree in Eden –
I showed it. You saw it.
Come
go down in me
and plumb my depth. For a while.
See beyond beauty
of my form and face.
Come
like Krishna descend
from the skies and worship me.
Come, come
as Ram and go
through a trial by fire.
Lal saw me
in Shiva’s embrace and
assured you it was me.
I, alone. But again like Habba
you left me desolate midway. If she turns
from you in disgust would you put her to death?
If wisdom breaks
over you like dawn
even at this moment come to me.
If you find your way
I’ll know you’ve come for me.
Alone.
To stand by me, with me,
a true Adam.
Only then I’ll know you know
that I am as I am. Singular.
Neither your shade. Nor reflection.
NOTE
Naseem Shafaie interweaves her words with those of other poets who are household names in Kashmir, the poet also knits in traditional sayings. These quotations are italicised.
The first is from 14th century mystic Lal Ded’s vaakhs (quatrains).
The second is by Habba Khatum, who wrote romantic, secular verses in the 16th century.
The third, drawn from folksong, is a mother’s address to her son.
The fourth stems from the Kashmiri belief that Mother Mary was commanded by God to smell a bottle of fragrance.
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