My Newborn

A mother will take you under her wings, even when you know how to fly – my quote.

I don’t know how true it is for you. For me, I always come to the help of my grown up children even when they refuse my help. A child remains a child for a mom even when he is an old man and a great granddad. I refer to child as a male because I have only boys and four of them.

I remember telling them stories, mostly imaginative, when they were very small. Later and now, I tell stories to my grandchildren.

Even later and as far back as last year, I wrote my first story book for children, The Princess and the Crow.

A few months ago, I conceived the idea of a new, illustrated book for children. I am expecting to deliver the book any time now.

A book is like a child to me. I have in all ten children, four biological children and six books. Awaiting the birth of a book gives me the same anxiety problems, coupled with short breath, cold sweat, loss of appetite and loose bowels.

Most of all, I am on top of the world as a creative writer and a mother.

Writers write because there have something deep inside their guts that they need to bring out.

My advice to writers is to write and write until you bring out what is inside you.

Anita Bacha

SOUL POETRY

SOUL POETRY -Inspirational Poems, Verses and Quotes is a collection of poems, verses and quotes which driven by wild waves of inspiration I wrote over the past five years. I am not a full time writer or poet. I only write when I am inspired and words start to flow from my pen like drops of nectar on a starve parchment.

The main subject of my poetry, my verses and quotes is Love. Here, I must tell my readers to appreciate that there is only One Love whether it is maternal love, physical love, obsessive love, infatuation or spiritual love to name a few. My book also covers different aspects of human relationships, and different themes from flowers to butterflies. Being a woman, when I write about a lover, I am writing about a man. So you will find a few poems very audacious. I have never found it challenging to write love poems about men. They deserve to be admired and their charms must be carved on paper and for eternity, recognizing that the body is mere rust and dust; the soul is eternal. Behind my every poem, there lies a story.
Anita Bacha

True to His Word

True to his word,

He was there, in the park,

Waiting for her,

She halted, looked around,

His words echoed in her ears,

In the morning gentle zephyr,

‘I will be there!’

‘I will be there for you!’

He cried out,

Last time they met and parted;

Stoic, handsome and shy,

Greener against the blue sky,

He smiled under its vast parasol;

The sight of him warmed her heart;

They talked,

They had so much to say to each other;

Then they fell into a deep silence,

It was not love,

It was not happiness,

It was a soul connection.

Anita Bacha

A tree

Goat Story

One day, an old and worn-out goat was quietly crossing over a bridge under which a river was flowing. Coming in the opposite direction gallantly, was a sturdy young goat. When they reached the middle of the bridge, they realized there was not enough room for two goats to pass. They halted. The young goat said in a threatening voice, ready to come to thorns-
‘Out of the way you so and so! I am in a hurry!’
The old goat felt the looming sparks of hostility in the air. He had fought several fights in his life and this young goat, he thought, would be K.O in the first round! But wisdom dawned upon him.
‘The bridge is made of bamboo and is not solid. What if it collapses during the struggle? We will both fall into the river with dire consequences!’ He reflected.
‘Look here, young chap!’ He addressed his opponent with diplomacy. ’There is no point in fighting! I will lie down on my tummy and you can walk across on my back!’
No sooner said than done, each goat went off on his way happily!
-Anita Bacha-

The Butterfly 🦋

THE BUTTERFLY
I sit by my window,
I behold a magic butterfly!
A rainbow butterfly!
Gorgeous hues of red, blue, indigo,
Orange, green, heavenly mauve,
Immaculate yellow,
Fluttering loftily,
Flying stealthily,
Flirting with sweet flowers so lovely!
A discreet kiss on the lips of the white pansy,
A soft caress on the dahlia’s cheek,
A gentle stroke on the red nose of the poppy!
Hibiscus, violets,
Budding marigolds,
Chuckle and open their folds,
Engrossed by the magic butterfly!
A fragrant red rose,
Spreads her velvety petals,
Lingers and whimpers!
In the wilderness, disappears the magic butterfly!

Anita Bacha

RESTONS À LA MAISON 🏡

Soudainement, sans avertissement,

Notre beau pays, Ile Maurice, est pris d’assaut,

Un ennemi mortel paraît, on n’est sait d’où,

Il s’attaque à nous,

Il est minuscule mais malin,

Il s’appelle Corona, il est là,

Invisible mais invincible,

Il ne choisit pas, voyons,

Noir, blanc, jaune, marron,

Homme, femme, jeune ou vieux,

Riche, pauvre, vaillant, peureux,

Il s’attaque à tous,

Confinement solitaire,

Couvre-feu sanitaire,

À la maison, pour se taire,

Un peuple uni sortira vainqueur.

Anita Bacha

The Expired Thongs


I embarked on a spiritual journey last spring and headed towards an ashram in search of self enquiry. My destination was India, a country known for its vast spiritual heritage. I carried in my luggage the minimal personal effects including a pair of old thongs. This search for the Truth of Oneself will, in my mind, be restrictive on personal wants and needs.


Two days after I had rambled around in my old thongs, I noticed that part of the right sole was coming off; I brought it closer to my eyes to have a microscopic view of the damage; I then perceived that there was another problem; the strap which run from between the big toe and the second toe to the right side of the sandal was threading off and thinning. I sadly told myself that the thongs had expired due to old age, wear and tear. It was essential for me to look for new thongs before the expired ones left me half-way. Opportunity knocked when the next morning I walked into a store to buy fruit juice. An array of attractive and colorful thongs was displayed on a self. I tried a few pairs until I fell on one which fitted perfectly.


I settled my bill, removed the new thongs from the box, glided my feet into them and placed the expired ones into the carton to throw away. Strangely, I could not find a dustbin and the expired thongs slept in the box under my bed almost forgotten.
Time passed by. For the festival of Mahashivratri, innumerable pilgrims arrived in the ashram from all over the world. One night, I misplaced my new thongs. I immediately run for the rescue of the expired ones. I had been advised by a physician to walk barefoot which was supposedly a good exercise for different types of inflammation and beneficial for my sore knees, but accustomed to the western way of life, I found it hard to hop around like a grasshopper without footwear.


Eventually, the expired thongs silently resumed their job of transporting me. Every time I came out of a hall or canteen where footwear was not allowed, my eyes fell on them waiting for me, tattered yet so warm. They were serving submissively and devotedly like old wives. I left them here and there, under the nose of everyone but nobody touched them. They were too old to draw attention or to be stolen. Expired they were, in the eyes of all except in mine. What a startling spiritual lesson to learn! Respect and hold on to the old; in times of need, they are the most helpful.


Further, nothing ever happens accidently or mysteriously, spiritual life shows us. For every happening, there is a proper reason. Moreover we are taught that inanimate objects too have feelings and emotions. For instance, it is told in the sacred Hindu book ‘The Ramayana’ that when Lord Rama went to rescue his wife Sita from the demon King Ravana, an army of monkeys came to his help. They built a bridge by plucking mountains from the Himalayas and throwing them into the seas to allow Rama to walk from his land to the realm of Ravana. When the bridge was done, one mountain cried because it was plucked from its original place but not used. Lord Rama then promised the mountain that in his next Avatara, it will receive his blessings.

This very mountain was the Govardhana Peak which Rama as the Avatar Krishna lifted on his finger and held aloft for seven days in order to save the inhabitants of Gokul from the devastation of torrential rain.
To cut a long story short, I returned home with the expired thongs, having learnt that self enquiry leads one to detach from people, mundane life and affairs by opening one’s eyes to the deficiencies in them.

Anita Bacha