Onset of Spring

Sunday lunch in a friendly bistro,
On the outskirts of Brussels;
A hanging smell of blubber,
Roast, mash and stew,
A man in an old over-coat,
Others in woollies and stoles,
Silently bent on their plates,
In their eyes, hope twinkles and smiles,
Shafts of sunlight
Break through closed windows,
Heralds the onset of spring;
Like man,
Nature too is keen on change.
A new coat, cheerful and light,
A scarf painted with colors, beautiful and bright.

Anita Bacha

Photo Credit: Anita Bacha.

I lived in Belgium for some time, more particularly,in Brussels for work and in Linkebeek with family and friends. I love the Belgian people both the French and the Flemish. I adore the food. I have left a piece of my heart in Belgium and I entertain the sincere wish of going back one day when the Spring breaks through.

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My birth mother and my adoptive mother

My Birth Mother and My Adoptive Mother.

Her shiny brown eyes like ripe tamarind pulp,

Her olive color skin, her long flowing black hair,

Her cute oval face and sweet, crying voice,

Her fragrance, vetiver interlaced with wild musk,

Tore my heart apart as I let go of her linen camisole;

She is my mother!

Locked in her arms, I snuggle, forgetful of the world,

Throwing my legs and arms in gleeful abandon,

I yawn,

Languidly I open my eyes,

Her loving, sky blue gaze,

Her porcelain white skin glowing in the sun light,

Her golden curls dancing around her pretty face,

Her perfume, carnation interlaced with red rose,

Fill my heart as I bury my head in her silken stole,

She is my mother!

Mother is the one who renounced me,

Mother is the one who found me,

Mother Is

Mother always will be

Anita Bacha

I am sharing this poem that I wrote a decade ago when I was Head of the Central Authority for Inter-country Adoption , set up by The Hague Conference , in Mauritius. Strange are the ways of God, I found.Not every bud becomes a flower; not every daughter becomes a mother.Anita Bacha.

Illustrative photography: Anita Bacha.

The Night of Shiva in Mauritius

In spiritual life, each aspirant seeks and appeases his spiritual hunger according to his belief , taste or talent.

Grand Bassin, dotingly called ‘Ganga Talao’ , is a Crater Lake situate in a secluded mountain area in the South of Mauritius. Nestled deep in the core recess of the heart of the island, Grand Bassin is recognized as a sacred lake and a replica of the Holy Ganges by the Hindu populace.Every year, thousands of pilgrims from the four corners of the island converge to its precincts; they collect the sacred water of the lake,to offer to Lord Shiva, on the occasion of Maha Shivaratri or The Night of Shiva. This year, the Night of Shiva is celebrated on 21 February. Zealous pilgrims from the north, the east and the west have started to trek to the south since Friday last, blessed by the intermittent drizzles of the rainy season.

ODE TO SHIVA

Graceful, gorgeous white skinned Lord,

You wear the moon on your head,

You are the elixir of life,

Remover of pain and suffering; Immutable, powerful three-eyed Lord,

You are the Embodiment of Light

Bestower of joy and ecstasy

Destroyer of darkness and ignorance

My song is a prayer to you,

My dance is a worship to you,

My body is your temple,

My soul belongs to you.

Anita Bacha

Illustration/Photography/Anita Bacha Illustration Video/Courtesy of Flying Freaks Aerial Cinematography

The Other Side of Paradise

God only knows,
I saw your smile in the crescent of the moon,
I saw your tears sashaying the window screen,
Or was it raining on a full moon night,
God only knows,
I am madly in love with the idea of you,
The scent of henna on my beloved’s hand,
Breathes the perfume of rose in the desert sand,
God only knows,
How far the traveler has run around the globe,
I saw your footprints in a puddle of water,
I saw your fingers running in my tangled hair,
Or was it the rustling of the mimosa leaves
God only knows.
Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Anita Bacha

Green Beryls

If you have never looked deep inside the eyes of a child, do it now! There is much more than you can imagine… 🌞

GREEN BERYLS 

Two drops run down her cheeks;

In the space of one breath,

I caught the pearls,

Rolled them between my thumb

and index finger,

Smell them,

Guess their taste of honey melon,

“Why do they taste so sweet?”

“Don’t Know!”she replied peevishly.

“Your eyes are so beautiful.”

“I know “she said, wiping her tears.

“What’s the colour of your eyes?” looking deep inside her eyes,

“Saxon green!”

“Yes, indeed

and, I see the brilliance of the sun.”

“There are clouds too”she said

“Clouds make the rain,

then fall as tears!”

Anita Bacha

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

Invigorate 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.

Photo credit:Raj Swami.

Your Voice

The magic of your voice,
Irretrievably touches my soul,
Lifts our passion to zeniths untold.

The magic of your voice,

When I hear on the phone,

Fills my searing eyes with tears,

Drives away all my agony and fears;

Whatever the cruel distance,

However excruciating the absence,

The magic of your voice,

When I hear on the phone,

Brings a smile of hope on my face,

In my life,fullness and solace;

The magic of your voice,

When I hear on the phone,

Irretrievably touches my soul,

Lifts our passion to zeniths untold.

Anita Bacha

A Flower in My Hair

Today I wear a fresh flower in my hair,

My sweet sweetheart is here,

For the city, he left me asunder,

How I lived without him, I wonder;

Red florets I wore on our wedding night,

The gems he put in my hair under the moonlight,

Are the pressed blooms under my pillow,

How I slept without him, do you know?

Anita Bacha

Photo credit: Rajesh Swami

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Flowering

The flower doesn’t dream of the 🐝

It blossoms and the 🐝 comes

– Rumi

Quote of Rumi

Photo credit: Anita Bacha

These pictures were clicked by me last July at Borehamwood in England.

The A1 shooting group in Borehamwood is a family-run clay target shooting facility offering English Sporting, Olympic Trap and Helice.

Every summer, I visit the shooting ground with my family for the pleasure of holding a shotgun, and to enjoy a walk in the countryside.

I was happily surprised to find bumblebees in a bush on a sidewalk.

I stopped with my IPhone and caught some beautiful pictures of bumblebees romancing with flowers, undisturbed by the deafening sound of shooting. They were peaceful and happy, totally ignorant of the world around them.

The flowers, I observed, were not budding, new blooms or half blooms or full blossoms for that matter but withering flowers, some had lost their petals and others were dying.

Yet, see the magic of Nature, bumblebees were swarming around them, thirsting for their nectar.

Probably Nature wants to teach us a lesson, I thought, about women.

A woman, like a flower, never aged.