Marrons Glacés 🌰

The woody scent of roast chestnuts fills my whole being again, after decades and so far away from Europe; I am at One Utama shopping mall in Kuala Lumpur; memories of my student days flashed in front of my open eyes like a collage of eventful occurrences.

It was my first winter in London.

In those times,the days were extremely short and dark.Snow piled up in heaps on both sides of the roads as my friend,Baba, and I struggled to pave our way to Holborn tube station.
Curbed into two,shivering under my winter coat, a whiff of browning nuts made me jerk. I turned to my friend and asked –
” What’s the scent?’
“Roasting chestnuts” he replied, as he gestured with his chin at a black silhouette in the corner of the street.
I could vaguely make out,in the distance,a man or a woman, shabbily dressed, occupied in front of a stove of burning charcoals.A light smoke raised as a cloudy mist around the stove, danced playfully in the icy air.
We crossed the road.
The alluring scent of roast chestnuts swelled my nostrils.
Baba bought a small paper bag of piping hot chestnuts and ceremoniously offered it to me.
I tasted the first roast chestnut of my life and I spontaneously became fond of this soft and delightful delicacy.

Baba took up a job at Knightsbridge for end of term and Christmas vacation.
Among other lovely Christmas gifts, which he offered to me,I found a luxuriously wrapped box of ‘marrons glacĂ©s’ from Harrods.

After our law studies, we parted. We did not keep in touch but I still love chestnuts,roasted,candied or steamed.

It’s amazing how the sound of music or the whiff of a scent can bring to our mind souvenirs of cherished instances that we carry inside us and which,possibly none of us actually knows is there.

Anita Bacha

Marrons Glacés

White Flowers in the Night


Take me with you,
To a land where white flowers,
Bloom in the night,
Where moths freely die in the light,
As I bloom and I die in your favors,
Take me with you,
Keep me close to you,
As the scent of white flowers,
Invigorates the breath of lovers,
And I write with the ink of your eyes,
These petals of poetry,
Chaste as white flowers in the night.
Anita Bacha

Autumn Vibes

Sunrise, the highlight

Of this glorious morning,

Sparkles autumn leaves

The rain is falling,

Various ducks swim languidly,

On the swollen pond.

Brittle and fragile,

The tree releases the leaves,

They blow in the wind.

A walk in the park,

Brings back memories of you,

So far yet,so near.

End of October,

A yellow maple leaf falls,

Turns to syrup brown.

Autumn vibes are haikus I’ve written during the past few weeks,and sharing here. I am living on an island actually and here, we have only two seasons,summer and winter.Haiku poetry tickles the imagination and haiku lovers will find in these haiku poems illustrated with pictures, how very far the mind can travel, create and produce.

With love ❤️

Anita Bacha

An Island in the Sun

My eyes meet your eyes,

As the sun melts in the sea-

It’s love at first sight.

Sunset in Pereybere, Mauritius

We walk on the beach,

In the cool,morning sun, far

From the madding crowd.

Tamarin Beach, Mauritius

The day is over,

Fisherman brings a good catch,

The boat gets some rest.

GrandBay, Mauritius

A silent man sits,

With a fishing rod at sea,

Sunrise to sunset.

Fisherman at Roches Noires, Rivière du Rempart, Mauritius

At dawn, the sun kneels,

To embrace the sea,

In meek submission.

Sunset at Les Barachois, Tamarin, Mauritius.

It’s very cold,

Fire in the hearth has burnt out,

I dream of summer.

Le Flamboyant, tropical summer bloom, Mauritius.

Haiku is a type of short form poetry, originally from Japan. Traditional Japanese haiku consists of three phrases that contain a kireji,or cutting word,17 on in a 5/7/5 pattern and a kigo, a seasonal reference.However, modern haiku vary widely on how closely they follow the traditional elements. I have this crush for haiku and I try my best to be in tune with the ancient haiku poets.

Enjoy and let me have your feedback.

Contemplation

May this waiting draw to a close, my love!
That very soon we are united at last,
In a mad and passionate hug;
My heart shall beat with your heart,
Away our tears shall flow in abundant joy,
Shall wet our parched lips of the grief,
Of the pain of thirsting desires;
That blessed under a starry night sky,
Your breath shall melt with my breath,
My eyes bathe in the clear pond of your gaze;
Swept into the furrows of time and space,
We forget the world, the universe, the Creator himself,
We forget the intense longing,
We forget the slow suffering,
That shall exist for us only our guiltless love!
Anita Bacha

Pure Love đź’•

The Night Train of Nagaur

One of my favorite poems written during the precious time spent in Rajasthan.

Anita Bacha

How to tell you,

What is more painful than a blast in the ear,

More painful than a suppressed tear,

More painful than the whistle of a train,I hear;

How to tell you,

Nothing is more painful than your leave,

Feigning that without you I can live;

How to tell you,

What is a beloved without the lover,

Or a lover without the beloved,

Or me without you, or you without me;

How to tell you,

What is the sky without a moon,

Or a moon without the sky,

Or me without you, or you without me.

Anita Bacha

Photo credit -Rajesh Swami

anitabacha.com

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GOA Revisited

Sun glows in blue sky,

Gold ripples dance on the sea –

Time to set the sail.

Colorful fishing boats in Santa Paulo

Young tourist poses,

Older man sips lemonade,

Generation gap.

Sea view point

Humble hatched roof hut,

Lies behind tourist hotel,

Fisherman’s sweet home.

Fisherman’s hut in North Goa

Sun sets at seaside,

Colorful streaks brush the sky,

Footprints in wet sand.

Sundowner in Panaji

Sleek evening ripples,

The sun embraces, lying down –

Romantic season!

Beautiful sunset Santa Paulo

Roses for all seasons

Pretty yellow rose,

Sunbathing in the courtyard,

Intruder fly bites!

Yellow rose London summer

Exquisite pink rose,

Flaunts her fresh,youthful beauty,

In the spring of life.

Garden rose London Spring

In the morning rain,

Bruised dust-pink rose shivers,

On a bed of thorns.

Late summer rose Stratford London

Frail rose bud petals,

Burn in blaze of dry season ,

Thirsting for rain drops.

Rose bud in dry season,Rajasthan

Lush garden roses,

Half-blossom bends to her weight ,

Till the last fold falls!

Summer scarlet rose.Mauritius