Aging is not stopping me from writing. My poetry journey continues as new wrinkles unfold on my face, my neck and my hands.
Along my journey I have come across the adorable editor of Scarlet Dragonfly Journal, Kathleen Trocmet,on the internet. Inspired by her commendable work I started to submit my haiku poems to Scarlet Dragonfly Journal.
I thank her for selecting my haiku for the month of April 2022 issue.
A Pink Moon rises
Plum tree blossoms like ink marks
In a poetry book
Hi friends, writers, and readers,
I am glad to share with you the publication of my new book, PINK MOON, an anthology of haiku poems. I have made a random choice of 365 out of 700 three lines poems written over a space of two years, thinking fondly that you may wish to read one poem a day during the year.
What prompted me to write the book?
Haiku is traditionally a Japanese poem consisting of three short lines that do not rhyme.
The erudite consider haiku to be more than a style of poetry. It is a way of observing the physical world and seeing something beyond, more profound, close to the very nature of existence, and to an essential vision of life.
Traditional Japanese poetry consists of three lines that contain a kireji, or cutting word, 17 syllables on a 5,7,5 pattern, and a kigo, or seasonal reference.
Similar poems that do not adhere to these rules are generally classified as senryu.
Senryu is about the human heart and spirit, expressions of life, and love. It is similar to haiku except that haiku is mainly about nature.
I became enamored with haiku poetry in 2018. In that year, I was at the London Book Fair to exhibit my debut poetry book ‘Soul Poetry’. I surprisingly came across a work by the Japanese poet Matsuo Basho. I fell in love with his haiku poems at first glance. I saw magic, sound, and music in his words –
Early morning walk,
Tree leaves bristling,
A lovely sunrise
Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan.
During his lifetime, Basho was recognized for his work in the collaborative hakai no renga form; today, after centuries of commentary, he is recognized as the greatest master of haiku.
It took me a long time to learn the art of writing haiku. It demands faith, meditation, focus, creativity, love of nature, and mastery of words. All these, coupled with awe at the beauty of existence, I have jotted down these writing prompts in the traditional form of haiku, observing as closely as I can the syllable count, three lines, and a seasonal reference.
I hope my readers appreciate my haiku poems. A globetrotter, I write them as I soar on my quill in the open sky.
Many have lost a loved one, a family member or a friend as a virus reigns supreme in the world. As all bad things have a good side, human beings realize that we are all one,irrespective of our faith, religion, color of skin,likes and dislikes. COVID-19 does not choose; it doesn’t prefer one to the other. It’s a killer. It destroys all humans.
With the above in mind, I woke up this Saturday morning and picked up my pen , a piece of paper and I wrote my new year resolution. Yes, I have only one resolution. I recall when I was a kid, my mom would ask, every new year day –
Ani, have you written your new year resolutions, my child ?
Writing the new year resolutions was a tradition in our family, among the other traditions which we followed ceremoniously, too many to mention here. The only family tradition that remains after I adopted modern thoughts and life style is to jot down the new year resolutions.
A new year resolution is a traditional custom in which we resolve to continue good practices, change a bad habit or behavior, decide to achieve a personal goal, or improve family relationships and lead a happy life.
My new year resolution comes straight from my heart. It is to continue to see beauty in all things and god in all beings.
My son Yogen and my granddaughter Yana after a session of scuba diving in Mauritius. They arrived from the United States of America two days ago, now that the borders are open after two years of restrictions on travel by all the countries in the world to control the spread of the pandemic Covid-19.
After the immense success of the first edition in the French language, my audience started to ask for a version of my illustrated children’s book in the Kreole language and in English.The French version was launched and immediately put for sale in December 2020.
Wakashio the book
I contacted many translators and publishers in Mauritius to translate and publish the book in Kreole. I did not get any response mainly because Mauritius was under confinement for a long time.
As all things have a good and a bad side, I spent my time in confinement to translate the book in English.
The Mitsui O.S.K Lines (Mauritius) Ltd, the Japanese Company, owner of the bulk carrier ship MV Wakashio that ran aground on the coral reefs and spilled oil off the coast of Mauritius, collaborated in the printing and publishing of the new book.
On Tuesday 10 August 2021 , Mitsui O.S.K Lines Mauritius Ltd organized the launch ceremony of the English Edition in the presence of His Excellency the Ambassador of Japan in Mauritius, Mr. Kawaguchi.
The launch ceremony was held in the office of the Mitsui O.S.K Mauritius Ltd at Pointe D’Esny in Grand Port, Mauritius. We could see with binoculars the remaining part of the wreck of MV Wakashio. A sad sight!
With Mr.Yamashita, Manager of Mitsui OSK Lines Mauritius Ltd Krsna Bacha, my son and speaker at the function ,looking at the wreck.With His Excellency Ambassador Mr. Kawaguchi and Mr.Yamashita, Manager of Mitsui OSK Lines Mauritius Signing an autograph for His Excellency Ambassador Mr. Kawaguchi.
I am overjoyed with the progress of my illustrated children’s book Wakashio. Je souhaite partager avec mon audience cet élan de bonheur.
Je remercie mes lecteurs pour leur soutien.
‘To have a great book, we must have a great audience’. C.S.Lewis.
Thank you for being a great audience.
Anita Bacha
Wakashio the book, in the background the turquoise blue sea in South East Mauritius.
In traditional Japanese poetry a kigo is a word associated with a season. Nowadays poets mostly outside Japan do not use a kigo as a must when writing haiku poetry. I think that a kigo adds a streak of romanticism in haiku poems for the simple reason that we and our moods are ruled by seasons.
Lord Shiva is the All- Compassionate Hindu God, who swallowed the deadly poison ‘halahala’ to save the world from annihilation.
It is told, by munis (wise men) and sages, that when creation was complete, Lord Shiva and His Consort, Goddess Parvati went to live on the top of the Kailash Mountain in the Himalayas. Parvati Devi, one day, asked Lord Shiva- “O Lord! Which of the many rituals observed by your devotees please you most?” Lord Shiva replied- “The fourteenth night of the new moon in the dark fortnight, during the month of Phalgun, is My Favorite Day. It is called Shivratri. My devotees give me greater happiness by fasting rather than ceremonial offerings of flowers, sweets and incense. They observe strict spiritual discipline in the day and worship me in four different forms during each of the four successive three-hour periods of the night. The offering of a few bael leaves is more precious to me than the most fragrant flower and the most expensive jewel. They bathe me in milk in the first period, in curd in the second, in clarified butter in the third and in honey, in the fourth and last period. In the morning, after the prescribed ceremonies, they break the fast. No ritual can compare with this simple routine in sanctity.”
It is interesting to note that the bael leaf that we offer in the ceremonial rituals to Lord Shiva is considered sacred as the bael tree grows near the Shiva temple and the leaf has the particularity of blossoming in the shape of a trishul- three small leaves in a tiny twig, one in the middle and, one on each side. -Anita Bacha-
Once there was a little boy who lived with his poor, widowed mother in a far away village. His name was Harry. During school holidays he had no friend with whom to play. His mother was a loving woman and played with him when she was not busy with her household chores. One day, however, she fell ill and Harry became very lonely. His mother consoled him and told him to go out and play with Krishna. ‘Who is Krishna?’ Harry asked his mother. ‘Krishna is the friend of all!’ Harry rushed out eagerly calling ‘Krishna! Krishna!’ ‘Hello!’ said a cow herd boy coming from behind a tree ‘why are you calling my name?’ “Let’s play!’ Harry uttered with joy. They played together during the school holidays. Back to school, Harry told the school master about his new friend, Krishna. The school master listened to his story but did not believe a word of it. Soon it was the birthday of the school master. Harry became very sad; he had no money to buy him a birthday present. His mother then reminded him of his friend Krishna. ‘Go and talk to your friend Krishna’ she told Harry, ‘he will surely help you!’ Harry did as he was told and Krishna gave him a pot of butter milk. ‘Here! This is a birthday present for your school master!’ Unfortunately, the school master was not happy with the present. He scorned at it and asked his servant to throw the milk curd away. The servant complied but amazingly, the pot was filled with milk curd again. After several attempts to empty the pot, he ran to the school master to tell him about the incredible happening. ‘What!’ the school master exclaimed ‘it must be a magic pot!’ He immediately summoned Harry and asked him about the source of the pot. When Harry replied that his friend Krishna gave it to him, the school master asked him to take him to Krishna immediately. ‘I want to see your friend!’ he exclaimed. The school master followed Harry to the place where he met Krishna. At the top of his voice, Harry called for his friend but Krishna did not appear. Then from behind a tree, they heard another voice: ‘Why are you calling me Harry?’ Harry recognized the voice of his friend Krishna. He replied: ‘My school master wants to see you.’ ‘The school master cannot see me, Harry, because no one can see me unless he believes in me!’ said the voice gently but firmly. The school master was bowled over. He returned to the school with his tail between his legs.