द इंडियन बॉय/The Indian Boy

The Indian Boy
From the moment at the airport when the Indian boy
Touched my feet, his eyes wide with fear, I began to realise
I would never again see the world with the same eyes
Responsibility for someone’s total trust does not come free
In another culture and another world it was difficult to see
How to have him live a western life and not compromise
The values and beliefs of the region of his birth
That of the diverse people one chances upon
Of all those millions who populate the earth
This would be the one that Karma would decree
“This is your son; this one life is your responsibility”
All trust, determination, and belief have proved their worth
A member of the family added to the two of us at last
One who from the first brought many hours of joy
Resonating against all odds – a bond from the distant past
This boy born in Darjeeling in Kanchenjunga’s holy shade
He can never know what a difference to our lives he made.

Surprise and consternation from friends and family
Changed to acceptance and happy familiarity
As day by day the Indian boy changed our lives
We began to see the world around us with new eyes
The flavours and aromas of the Himalaya our staple food
First thing to go was the use of forks and knives
Western plates were an experience he thought good
The words and phrases that became accepted things
To be used forever: “flower cabbage, take the dogs on strings”
Pool noodles used as aids to swim, he floated in the sea
Christmas Mass in the townships, decorating the tree
Walks on the mountain, “Coca-cola” water in the dam
Trekking with work groups, finding friends in the market stalls
A trip to KZN - so many Indians and mostly South African!
The local Indian Radio Station, ignored for almost a year
Was suddenly the only music delighting his ear!
A trek in the mountains, days in a caravan
“Dad’s” illness behind us, the death of his favourite pet
Through sorrow and in joy life was made magical indeed
Filling the hours with new experiences it was easy to forget
And we laughed, shared so many things and gave little heed
To Time’s inexorable annihilation of each brave new day
And ever closer comes the time the Indian Boy must go away.

The past week I’ve been thinking of the Indian Boy
Child of Karma already twenty nine
The knife has now slowly begun to turn
In my heart as I know he must soon return
To the land I love so dearly, a kaleidoscope country
Of colours, aromas and sounds all chanting a divine chorus
The mother country of the world, she holds us in her soul
I started to put this into words when he had been here but a year
But found that all the things I would say would be those I most fear
I wrote and rewrote these words a hundred times since
But each time I began it was only sorrow I could find
And I’d scrub the words and push the subject from my mind.
How many times in the past two years
Have I tried to face the facts and face my fears?
But always the chasm was too deep,
I’d try and write but could not myself convince
To put on paper all the undiluted joy
Brought into our lives by the Indian Boy.
But the knife was turned and, in doing so, struck the heart
Circumstance intervened, crisis came and soon we must part
The halcyon days, as I knew they must, have ended
All the times I said I was prepared – I find I just pretended.

Water's Song

I would love to be like water
Cloak me in waves, cover me in foam
Toss me up on the beach far from home
Nothing to stop me, nothing comes after
The echo of waves crashing, wind on the sea
The tide rushes in, grabs at the shore
Pulls in her sacrifices, living no more.

I would love to be like water
Abseil the cliffs, crash to the ground
Heedless of heights, lost in the sound
Nothing to stop me, tinkling like laughter
Tumbling down head over heels
Eternally in freefall, total freedom at last
Racing to the future, no fear of the past.

I would love to be like water
Still as a mirror, reflecting the moon
Whispering in the darkness, life’s quiet tune
Nothing to stop me, need ask for no quarter
Silent and secret, cloaked in sky blue
Life force of millions, denizens of the deep
Caressing them softly, lulling them to sleep.

I would love to be like water
Crossing the plains, heading for sea
Dividing the land, giving succour for free
Nothing to stop me, nothing to barter
Taking and giving life to all I encounter
Heading onward and downward inexorably drawn
Perpetually in motion, meeting the sea, losing all form.

I would love to be like water
Running hop-scotch over pebbles, laughing aloud
Embracing the raindrops dropped by a cloud
Nothing to stop me, now I’m rain’s daughter
Calling up to all the clouds in the sky
Feed me, please feed me so I can traverse the land
Spreading my wings of water, enriching the sand.

I would love to be like water
Sky diving from clouds, swing on the rainbow
Rock hard as hail, whisper soft mystery as snow
Nothing to stop me, get faster and faster
Spin in a rain storm, fly on the wind
Dancing and laughing I merge with the stream
Back to the beginning, the rest is now a dream.

Multiple Lives

Multiple lives lived in the fast lane
Kaleidoscope pieces a new pattern with every turn
Parallel diaries always a New Years resolution
Personality fraying with each new demand
Searching for spare time a lost exercise
But here in my sanctuary no one can find me
Hiding in the corners of my mind
In Life’s secret garden that only I find
The old world, the lost world Time stands still
These buildings, the foreign green foliage
Transported in Time and lost in creation
Breathe life in the landscape, clouds in the sky
Eternally restful, now frozen in Time
Just for a moment my heart slowed its beat
My mind rested in peace, my soul in delight
But in races the real world and once again
In multiple lives and the fast lane I take flight

Reaching for the World with a Paintbrush

Freedom is a facet of your mind
You can run free in the land of democracy
But unless you free your mind, wherever you go
Yourself staring back at you, you find
The day I picked up a child’s toy brush
Was the day my mind broke free
Riches lived inside my head spilled out
Onto the page, living a coloured life of joy
Sadness and sorrow transformed itself
Brush stroke by brush stroke with each dip
Into the pigments of imagination’s playground
And washed away with the watercolours on the page
The hurt and fear of early years dripped down
The brush and onto the eager waiting page
Each music note had colour in my head
And the gaudy kaleidoscope of song
Spilled out onto the white paper covered
Oh so quickly with so many coloured images
Sometimes I wonder what it is that other people see
And if they miss the shifting scene of colours
That is such an integral part of me
Distant countries, scenes and shores each
Clamour for their own individual space
Shifting colours go with each and every place
Analysis and concentration define the quality of light
As unique as ancient architecture the colours play
Out a symphony of harmony specific to that land
And, for me, the magic of travel translates in my hand
The love of water and its magic flow, pigment-tinted
On the empty page, echo water’s call within my soul
The deepest love I’ve ever had is that of creating
A world contained within my head that flows
With brushstrokes or with words lightly onto
Paper that holds it in its tender embrace
I think that is the greatest gift an artist knows.

The Story In The Stars

This is a story that should start “once upon a time”
But the girl and the boy live in the Magic present Time
One day, when they have kids, the story will start “Once Upon a Time”
In beautiful Delhi, in the land that is the Heart of the World
A girl called Aru lived with her brother, Ashmit.
They were very special because their Mother was writing a story for them.
The story was on the Internet and lived among the stars where all the people
In the World could read it if they looked.
One day a lady in a place halfway across the World
On the southern-most tip of Africa, where, if you lean too far over the sea
You can fall all the way to the South Pole,
Was looking in the stars and saw the story.
When she read about the kid’s it was so interesting
Reading a story as it was being told is exciting
And almost never happens because most stories start
In the land of “Once Upon a Time”
The lady drew a picture of Aru telling her school
“Every night my brother says: I won’t dream tonight”
And then she saw that Mom, Dad and the two kids
Went on holiday to Jaipur, so Ashmit was in the picture
And the lady drew Delhi’s beautiful eagles that fly in the sky
And Rajastan’s desert camels that carry the people
Then, last, there were two elephants from Jaipur –
These she drew for Ashmit to dream about
And have happy dreams there in the sky with his story
That lived in the stars.