So I am not tired of writing Am I? I am not tired of expressing. Writing is the song I am always singing. Enjoy friends. Will come up with more.
Take care and don’t forget to give your feedbacks. Comment below. Share your thoughts.
I am quoting my words from my poem Azaleas posted a week before in my blog.
“I still have that old photograph
Me and my mother beside
That new mother happily
bursting with pink azaleas
It was last winter,
Grandpa had to cut it short
I still remember that expression
Of discomfort and regret
“Don’t be disheartened baba
They will grow again”, I said.
But his reply gave me a shock
,“They knew I would cut them.
It gives me much pain to inflict the same upon the plant I planted and nursed.”
“But they will grow next year”, he consoled himself.
Weeks haven’t past
My mom sick and in pain,
Tortured me more…
Yes, there is a strong connection
Between a mother and her child
It was then I realised
My grandpa though a Father figure
Had already become a Mother
To the plant life he was giving birth
With every passing year,
Trees,plants,orchids and so on…”
How I Became a Tree very much reminds me of my Thulobaba, baba and boju who are very much one with the green friends growing around us- pines, Azaleas, orchid trees( bahunia.sp), bottle brush( my favourite), Oranges (tall and dwarf), lemon, roses, lalupathey,chinaroses, Gauva, orchids and many more I cannot name.I have grown up with the hills, the trees around me, soaking in the aroma of the fresh tea leaves.I have grown up with the orange trees in our orchard. Some are of my father’s age, some even older than him, some are of my age and others are still younger and growing, all so very taller than me. Each winter, they bless us and when we were kids we would spend the whole day in the orchard, often skipping our lunch…
And reading Han Kang’s novel The Vegetarian, “set in modern-day Seoul,tells the story of Yeong-hye, a home-maker, whose decision to stop eating meat after a bloody, nightmarish dream about human cruelty leads to devastating consequences in her personal and familial life”. What struck me more are the lines in part 3.flaming Trees where she explains her dream“
[…] “Do you know how I found out? Well, I was in a dream, and I was standing on my head…leaves were growing from my body, and roots were sprouting from my hands…they delve down into the earth. Endlessly,Endlessly…. yes, I spread my legs because I wanted flowers to bloom from my crotch; I spread them wide…” .
This description goes so well with this amazing book cover.Isn’t the cover amazing ?
And here is the book with its subtle contemplative narrative “Among all desires to become a tree, the most urgent was the need to escape the noise; one was the noise of the humans, the other was the vocabulary of silence of the active life of trees” –How I Became A Tree by Sumana Roy is one remarkable book you never want to lose at any cost. I ordered this book from Flipkart (Of course it is available in Amazon). The more you read the more you get absorbed into the detailed photographic experiences and glimpses of the authors’ life. The more you read, the more you feel trees and flowers becoming more alive before your eyes. The way she thinks is unmatched and unparalleled, with her unique comparisons and interesting terms like the “tree-time”. There are chapters like Women as flowers and Women as trees. This is an exceptional book where one is awestruck and mesmerised at the same time. This book helps you come a hundred steps closer to the plant kingdom and feel each senses of a variety of flora breathing together with us. This is a book which is not hard to understand. Written in a simple lucid manner, we are sure to explore every flavour of memoir, literary history, nature studies, spiritual philosophies and botanical research.
I am still reading this book and by the end I am sure I will understand more and discover the heart beating inside every plant life.I hope I am not the same person after finishing this book.
Since I haven’t completed the book, I cannot produce a full book review. But below 👇 are the few links where you can read the full book reviews-
Well not every one is blessed as I am right now😇😇😇.
Well I got my copy signed by the author who fortunately turns out to be our beautiful Teacher. She is one of the best teachers on Earth with a beautiful heart and a gorgeous smile.A picture with our Dear beautiful Ma’am. How can I miss this opportunity…
From the Aleph book publisher-“In this remarkable and often unsettling book, Sumana Roy gives us a new vision of what it means to be human in the natural world. Increasingly disturbed by the violence, hate, insincerity, greed and selfishness of her kind, the author is drawn to the idea of becoming a tree. ‘I was tired of speed’, she writes, ‘I wanted to live to tree time.’ Besides wanting to emulate the spacious, relaxed rhythm of trees, she is drawn to their non-violent ways of being, how they tread lightly upon the earth, their ability to cope with loneliness and pain, the unselfishness with which they give freely of themselves and much more. She gives us new readings of the works of writers, painters, photographers and poets (Rabindranath Tagore and D. H. Lawrence among them) to show how trees and plants have always fascinated us. She studies the work of remarkable scientists like Jagadish Chandra Bose and key spiritual figures like the Buddha to gain even deeper insights into the world of trees. She writes of those who have wondered what it would be like to have sex with a tree, looks into why people marry trees, explores the death and rebirth of trees and tells us why a tree was thought by forest-dwellers to be equal to ten sons.
Mixing memoir, literary history, nature studies, spiritual philosophies and botanical research, How I Became a Tree is a book that will prompt readers to think of themselves and the natural world that they are an intrinsic part of, in fresh ways. It is that rarest of things – A truly original work of art. How I Became a Tree a book that will prompt readers to think of themselves and the natural world that they are an intrinsic part of, in fresh ways. It is that rarest of things – A truly original work of art.” (Blurb)
Book – How I Became a Tree
Author- Sumana Roy
‛How I Became a Tree by Sumana Roy’ is available in Amazon or other online book stores by Aleph book company For only Rs.599 (discounts are available)
The bundled pain might prick you
So very bitter and unhealthy
For your heart or for your body.
They might ache more than
The fresh burns you just had
You might apply a band-aid
But that proper medicine
Is an undiscovered priority.
Your closed bedroom,the locked heart
Is all rusted with
Heaps of untold secrets…
Even those silent sobs
Your quilt cannot cover
Neither that door.
Afraid that the sound might penetrate
All you are left is with screams,
Screams that are louder than the roars
Visibly audible only to your ears.
Nights growing more cruel than the days
Your mom may bid you goodnight
But your sleep have boarded the flight
Leaving you with an inevitable depression
A nocturnal animal you have become.
So no one except your dog can understand .
Handcuffed by these inescapable pains
Even your skin have grown pale and purple
Because they have stayed stagnant
Like erupted drops of blood , freshly clotted
Why don’t you let them flow?
Deep within they remain forever cloistered.
Why don’t you let them go?
When it has become that pernicious parasite,
Burning and eating you alive.
Do you simply want to turn into ashes?
like that piece of paper (I see there is something written on it);
or that wood (it provided shelter to many);
or that ragged cloth? that warmed those bare skin.
You might feel like
Befriending that rope
And welcome the untimely death.
But simply perishing away
With a marble tomb behind,
Is not an option to embrace.
Better embark on this mysterious journey
With the seed of purpose that is yet to blossom.
Why be that treacherous villain? a murderer of thy self?
For whom every punishment is worthless.
Look back in time
See how much you have earned. I mean not money
But the glorious wealth-friends,families.
So ending this sweet-salty life is that option
Not even an abandoned on the streets would dare take.
Life is so very valuable
Not even that famous Kohinoor can buy
So better dance your pain out
singing and accepting the rhythm of moments.
Remember? how we all have danced
To that childhood rhyme:
“Ring A Ring O’Roses
A Pocket Full of Posies
We All fall down”
But we all have stood up,
Forgetting the falling pains
See the best ailment is to laugh.
So my dear friend
Never fall prey to suicide
Better unstich the patterned pains
That so long have bruised
Your submerged universe.
Unlocking that rusted chambers
Be like that swift river always flowing,
Undisturbed from the mountains ,hills
Valleys , deserts and plains
Until they become ocean silent…
Life offers us with million colours of pleasures and pain
And in its varied flavours ,
We have so much to gain.
Gravity never pulled me down
It always lifted me up
That is why
Even when you
Plucked all my feathers
And blood oozed
I could still swim in the air.
This is not the end
They shot me with words
Disturbing my flow
I ate them
As they corroded my throat
But I didn’t think of atom bomb
Into festoons of poems
Showering them with
Just to heal their soul.
This is my first time poetry in voice. I shared the video of this poem,myself reading it and I got a good response from my friends in facebook. With a positive heart,I am sharing this with all my wordpress friends.
Click on the link below to hear me reading my poem
I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are lived
as true profundity,
and others claim they really live
the real reality.
The variety of our skin tones
can confuse, bemuse, delight,
brown and pink and beige and purple,
tan and blue and white.
I’ve sailed upon the seven seas
and stopped in every land,
I’ve seen the wonders of the world
not yet one common man.
I know ten thousand women
called Jane and Mary Jane,
but I’ve not seen any two
who really were the same.
Mirror twins are different
although their features jibe,
and lovers think quite different thoughts
while lying side by side.
We love and lose in China,
we weep on England’s moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.
We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we’re the same.
I note the obvious differences
between each sort and type,
but we are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.
We are more alike, my friends,
than we are unalike.