Bring me fresh spices from Trincomalee
How can I, they be all dead there
Cardamom, pepper, and orange leaf tea
Only arms and torso and head there
~
Vetiver, sandalwood, tales of yore
Colonizers were led there
Rivers of tears are what’s left of the war
Savagely mothers have bled there
~
Orphaned children amass at the graves
Who will see that they’re fed there?
The peace of existence that everyone craves
Forgot to be born and bred there
~
Show me the signs from the paradise hills
Angels now fear to tread there
As dusk descends and bird-call stills
Spirits howl in their bed there
~
Pearls and ships and eastern winds
Vast fortunes lay spread there
What nature offers, man rescinds
No one will rest their head there
~
The flowers are gone from Trincomalee
To adorn the pyres, they said there
And those of us left by fortune’s decree
Must shortly depart in dread there
Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas 
Morose Monday poetry
For deathly Trincomalee
But vetiver is khus
Didn’t know thus
Had to rush to dictionary!
Heartbreaking – both, the poetry and the plight of the people in Sri Lanka. I recently met someone who recounted what it was like to give up a high- paying job in SL and escape to India, literally overnight, in order to save his wife and daughters from being raped and killed; what it was like to suddenly have the walls of your own house rendered unsafe. I think of the many Sri Lankan friends I went to school and college with and wonder if they are all safe. Wars/ conflicts are never a good thing – I wonder how many, many broken souls this one will leave, in its wake.
On an unconnected note, Vetiver is one of my favorite smells – it brings back memories of hot summer afternoons and cool rooms, darkened in the shade of thick, fragrant vetiver curtains.
So beautifully poignant.
As someone who just doesnt “do” poetry — because why say in few words what I can ramble on about in endlessly long convoluted sentences — I am always in awe and filled with respect for people like you who can weave so much emotion and be so pithy.
Beautifully said.
beautiful OJ…curious, what was the inspiration behind this?
A very very beautifully woven, touching poem! Your words moved me deeply.
Love. Peace of existence reduced to pieces of existence to be auctioned off like spices.
Trincomalee is my backyard
Trincomalee is in my head
Into bluest of sleeping waters
My pearls did dare to tread.
Also sharing a link a friend (an editor collecting submissions) gave me on Facebook and requested me to spread the word: http://www.charlesfishman.com/charles_fishman_projects.htm
This is a call for submissions for ‘Veils, Halos and Shackles’, an anthology of international poetry.
Aunty G: Now that you know
That it is so
Use it
Or you’ll lose it
Give it a go!
R: Sigh. Yes. The human cost of war and the operation of state machinery both fascinate me. It would be so much simpler to look away, but My Heart the Masochist won’t let me.
I’m intrigued that you are familiar with moist vetiver curtains, because I’ve only ever read about those in Raj books (and wanted them for myself!)
hAAthi: Thank you, girl. Rambling eases many parts of us. (Except the bladder. That would not be fun.)
sukanyabora: How do I tell you without stumbling into multiple layers of education and life experiences? Let’s keep it simple: the immediate triggers were a detailed journalistic piece about the downfall of Velupillai Prabhakaran and a recently read book that reflected the trade and bounty of the region. Underneath that, there lie years of interest in colonization, history, and zones of conflict. Then there’s the mentality of growing up Parsi and therefore “not totally from here” and the ever-so-subliminal identification with the loss of a homeland (never mind that it was more than 1200 years ago). It’s really such a melting pot of motivations, I can’t keep them all straight. But thank you for asking. It made me stop and think. 🙂
DFSK: I am honored. Thanks for the link. Will certainly spread the word.
People, please share DFSK’s link freely!
Null Pointer: Love. LOVE! It delights me when this blog becomes a literary jamming space. 😀
They were a common sight in TN when I was growing up, OJ; even now, most of the smaller towns have them. I think I even saw them being sold here in Madras, last summer. They smell wonderful.
Beautifully, beautifully put. Funny how joy never pulls as many heart strings as sorrow does
My comment disappeared:(
So poignant and so heartbreaking, OJ.
R: I want one, I want one! I want a fragrant California summer. 😦
Meera: Doesn’t it? You know, that’s really food for thought. I’ve been debating this in my head since I read your comment. 🙂 No conclusion yet.
What do you folks think?
dipali55: I’m sorry–but look, this one showed up! 🙂
If you ever have someone coming this side, I will be happy to send you one. I remember a tweet of yours about fine lace (I think). The Victoria Technical Institute here sells the loveliest cushion covers/ bed spreads/ tea cosies/ coasters/ table runners with delicate lace borders, fine embroidery and tiny French knots. Oh, and did I mention that they make baby clothes in fine muslin/ cotton with similar embroidery? Smocked dresses in pale pastels and sunshine yellows for little babies? I think of MM and you every time I am there. You are the two ladies in the blog world I know will love it. So yes, do let me know 🙂
R: Thank you ever so much for offering. I’ll try to get the Boy to carry one sometime–maybe I should ask how large it is before I commit! The Victoria Technical Institute sounds just like our RTI–Ratan Tata Institute. Sigh. You’re bang on. I love those things.
Brilliantly evocative and gutwrenching at the same time. New to OJ. Off to look around. 🙂
subhorup: Welcome. 🙂 Feel free to browse. Thank you for your kind comment!