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alone to Alone
Poems & photographs by
ga yatri uma bhagwati khemka Blessings from D A D A J P VASWANI & Foreword by PAUL O COELHO
alone to Alone Poems & photographs by
ga y a tri um a bh ag w at i kh emka
TIMELESS BOOKS Bhaskar Bhawan, 1882 Jagram Mandir Lane New Delhi 110003 Tel: +91 9599 022669 Email: [email protected] This edition published in 2017 by Timeless Books Copyright © Gayatri Uma Bhagwati Khemka A-6, Kalindi Colony, New Delhi 110065 Email: [email protected] Designed by Incarnations Design All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage without prior written permission from the author.
alone to Alone Poems & photographs by
ga y a tri um a bh ag w at i kh emka
ISBN 13: 978-81-89497-81-1 ISBN 10: 81-89497-81-2 TBI Publishers' Distributors, New Delhi Tel: +91 11 46056198, 41648739 Email: [email protected] Printed in India
Blessings from
dada j p vaswani
Foreword by
p a ul o c oe l ho
And now only Yudhisthira and the dog were left, continuing the journey together. And finally, Indra descended in his chariot. He praised the extraordinary qualities of Yudhisthira and invited him into the chariot to ascend to heaven. “The dog must come with me,” said Yudhisthira. “That is not possible,” said Indra. “All cannot attain heaven. The dog is old and thin and has no value.” “In that case, I do not seek heaven,” replied Yudhisthira. “The dog was my faithful companion and I cannot abandon it. It sought my help and gave me unconditional love. The pleasures of heaven will mean nothing to me in comparison to its grief. It has done nothing to deserve abandonment and had none of the weaknesses of my wife and brothers. If it does not deserve to go to heaven, then neither do I.” And so he turned back. (Mahabharata)
ी वतुड महाकाय सूय कोटी समभा िनिवनं कु मे देव सव कायेषु सवदा॥ Shree vakratuṇḍa mahākāya sūrya koṭi samaprabha nirvighnaṃ kuru me deva sarva kāryeṣu sarvadā ||
O Lord with curved trunk and massive form, whose splendor has the brilliance of a billion suns O Lord, always help me overcome the obstacles in all my endeavors 4
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ॐ असतो मा सद्गमय । तमसो मा योितगमय । मृयोमा अमृतं गमय ।
ॐ शाितः शाितः शाितः ॥ Oṁ asato mā sadgamaya | tamaso mā jyotirgamaya | mṛtyor mā amṛtaṁ gamaya | Oṁ śhānti śhānti śhāntiḥ ||
From ignorance, lead us to truth From darkness, lead us to light From death, lead us to immortality Om peace, peace, peace (Brihadaranyaka Upanishad — I.iii.28)
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Blessings Poetry, we are told, is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings. But there is more to poetry than emotions and imagination. Poetry is the language of the soul. When the soul speaks, words have no value. That is why when a book of poems was placed before a poet, he smiled and said, “Yes, what the book says is true: God is Love!” To my mind, the best poetry has a spiritual dimension that transcends the worldly and reaches out to what may be called “other worldly”. It is this quality that stands out in the sensitive, deeply felt and exquisitely expressed poems of dear Gayatri. If the poems evoke deeply felt emotions too powerful for words, the photographs that go with them open up a world of rare and precious beauty. Together the poems and the photographs make this collection an unforgettable visual and intellectual treat. Considering that the poet is barely out of her teens, we look forward to many more such soulful compositions from her in the future! I congratulate the gifted young poet and wish her success in all her future endeavours.
– J. P. Vaswani
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Foreword Writing is one of the most solitary activities in the world. A poet gazes out upon the unknown sea of her soul, and sees a few islands – ideas that have developed and which are ripe to be explored. Then she climbs into her boat – called The Word – and sets out for the nearest island. On the way, she meets strong currents, winds and storms, but she keeps rowing, exhausted, knowing that she has drifted away from her chosen course and that the island she was trying to reach is no longer on her horizon. She can’t turn back, though; she has to continue somehow or else will be lost in the middle of the ocean; at that point, a series of terrifying scenarios flash through her mind: what am I doing here? Did I really want to see things that I hide even from myself? Exhausted, she finally allows the currents to guide her - and then arrives at one of the many islands. When she looks back, she realizes that her boat was dropping a string of silver in the water, and now the islands are linked together. Alone to alone? No. People are sharing their feelings, visions, emotions. This is the only task a poet has to fulfill: unite what was once separate. Congratulations, Gayatri, for fulfilling your task!
– Paulo Coelho
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Bright
alone to Alone I have always been a poet. For as long as I can remember. Writing, scribbling little notes and throwing them into the wastepaper bin. Capturing dreams and thoughts as they flowed and making them come alive on paper before hiding them from prying eyes, until, just before my tenth birthday, when my mother walked into the room and saw me toss a crumpled-up piece of paper, which I had lobbed furtively across the room and which proceeded, insolently, to bounce back out of the bin and roll respectfully towards her feet. It was then I realized I was a “poet”… the word sounded so grand and I was hooked! She went around for the next few days reading that crumpled-up piece of poorly written verse to everyone she met, glowing with pride, beaming her larger-than-life, loving smile, much more excited than I was. She and my father named that crumpled poem “Bright”.
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Walk straight into the light Walk straight into the light There may be shadows maybe fights but just remember the path you’ve chosen is always right Walk straight into the light Walk straight into the light Just keep walking forward you will be fine let all your powers combine when you walk into the light you will shine right into the night… You’re at a state of mind where you don’t know what you’ll find maybe love maybe the beauty of a white dove maybe extra time for life maybe a sharp stab from a knife But… Walk straight into the light Walk straight into the light January 2010
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I have always felt, as long as I can remember, that I have been here before, have been through this earthly experience and am here again to enjoy and share the beauty of this life with the people around me. I have also always felt that what is around us is actually rather like a dream, or like a scene from a moving train, which we are to take in one moment at a time, appreciating its beauty in the “now”, realizing that these things around us are only temporary. And yet, there is something within us that is permanent, that connects us, and where we find our real peace and joy. And at the root of that is Love. Some kind of spacious, bountiful love, rather like the sun shining on us, whomever we may be, or like the river bringing us water in the heat. A love that does not force, that only asks us to look deep inside ourselves and to effortfully strive to find the best that lies within. One that encourages us to commit to values like honesty, humility, and kindness. One that always asks us to choose a path of right from wrong, deep within ourselves. And, as my wise and beautiful Indian grandmother always reminds me, to make the choice between “shreya” and “priya”. My eldest sister Bhavani would force us to recite many shlokās and prayers from different traditions (that she had learned from my grandmother) every night as we went to bed and that constant remembrance of what is sacred opened up my dreams and my life to a spiritual world that lay just below the surface of my consciousness. Although I was born in New York and spent my earliest years in Moscow, I came to school in India and have melted
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into her soil. There is something primeval, sacred, spiritual, confusing, confounding about her and the more one begins to understand, the more one realizes one doesn’t. And yet she is a sacred, ancient land and I feel blessed to have found a home in her lap. My loving Indian grandfather is addicted to reading the newspaper, and is always telling us about our country and her contours - interesting, different and challenging. Nothing pleases him more than our innocent questions about this world around us. Sacred India is my home my love buzzing through my veins like cars on a busy street A place which the English language cannot begin to describe Where the word beautiful doesn’t fill even a fraction of what my Bharat is We have persevered on the promise of non-violence striven on the camaraderie passed on to us by our ancestors A piece of land brought to life by its population of a billion people We are a mix of warriors and farmers of royals and spirituals We are not afraid of people who put us down I am not just from India I am Indian And I take pride in that February 2015
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I have travelled all my life, from Galapagos to Gwalior, from Samarkand to Singapore, from Mandalay to Madrid, and from Kyoto to Kathmandu. My parents seem to be addicted to travel and as my father says in his sonorous voice, “there is no better education for a child…” My father’s business travel kept him away regularly, so much so that when we were small, my protective, caring, older sister Jayashree was convinced that he lived and worked at Moscow airport and my mother would take us there from time to time and bring him home for a break. “Mama, why can’t Papa live at home and go to work at the airport every morning?” she would ask my mother, pleading for some leniency on her part. My mother is from Nepal and we would spend time in Kathmandu every summer, trekking through the beautiful flower-filled valleys while looking up at the incredible snowcapped Himalayan ranges. The pungent smell of dewcovered pine trees in the early morning sunlight and of the moist earth after the monsoon rains, remain deep in my memory.
My exposure to our ancient cultures has been a blessing for which I am deeply grateful to all my grandparents. When I received my first camera for my birthday, I decided to begin a journey to capture the stories on the faces around me, each unique human life somehow encapsulated in one moment, in one expression.
Primeval My culture is complicated It takes every sense to fully understand it It sounds like my Dadi’s voice teaching us to pray It sounds like car horns, TV static and cows mooing It tastes like my mother’s favorite spices and her famous dal and rice It looks like murtis, temples, like winding roads and autos It smells like dusty Kathmandu marketplaces, clay and jasmine garlands It feels like the hot sun and thick air My words cannot contain its beauty, nor its vibrance Our culture runs wild within the veins of my people September 2015
The trips were perfectly planned by my wonderfully thoughtful and beautiful Nepalese grandmother, who would provide for every smallest thing to make our treks unforgettable. She would also tell us the most incredible stories about her childhood and her early life in Nepal as a young bride from India. My brilliant Oxford educated Nepalese grandfather would recite his favorite poems to us in the evenings around the camp fires, surrounded by bewildered Sherpas and our sleepy Labrador, and I would listen spellbound. Later I discovered he was himself a poet!
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My family is everything. I feel blessed to be surrounded by so much love and strength. I feel blessed to have their trust in making my own decisions. I feel blessed to have a chance to interact with each one of them, who have helped me become whatever I am so far. Most of all I am grateful for the divinity in our lives that surrounds all that we do and are. Our beloved Dada Vaswani teaches that “Love is all” and although we may feel alone, once we realize we are just Alone, all fear subsides…
Beloved Mā Every once in a while I find myself drifting back slowly, gently into your arms melting into them letting you hug me away from the world pulling me back into a place where I am untouchable You are my armor no matter how far we are from each other I will always feel you carrying me when I am sick I will always feel your fingers tangling themselves in my hair you are always there for me and I am always grateful for you March 2016
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Contents NIR G H ĀTA Destruction From Far Away
Snake Eyed
Night
Void
Bursting
Breaking
Forgotten
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Distances
Hollowed
alone
Locked Out
Precariously
Balancing
Darkness and Light
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Imagine
Hidden
Perfection
Never
Awaken
Alone
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Home
Together
Forever
As One
Waking
Being
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A R D I TĀ Suffering
BODHANA Awakening
E K AT VA Oneness
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N I R G H ĀTA Destruction
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From Far Away I thought about it all night These choices we make define us These actions cannot be taken back You walk with such confidence strong and fierce, until you falter sometimes you must let go else your attachment, your duty will seal your fate You will have acted too fast fast forwarded through your thoughts acted on every impulse only to find that time has caught up with you Stuck in slow motion watching your past float by through teary eyes still holding your head high You will tell yourself you were right You will lie, too proud to tell me the truth I know you, our bond is strong We are two sides of the same coin Not knowing why you are where you are you will tremble as you think to yourself I am here, about to die May 2016 24
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Snake Eyed Imagine a palace illuminated by the flames of a million lamps Imagine a man lips pressed to his flute playing a sweet melody Imagine his turban painted red and yellow bound tight on his head Imagine the man his mustache turned golden in the flames Imagine his eyes glowing amber against his olive skin Imagine what may lie within February 2015
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Night I had a nightmare that I had run out of time There was no future, no tomorrow I was drowning in myself and no one noticed I looked back and all I saw was what I used to be Insecurity lingered over me like the scent of death in a graveyard It’s cold fingers grabbed at me elbow, neck, knee Shivers I had a nightmare November 2015
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Void I find my lungs collapsing like a tent It’s deliberate and you seem to pull me apart Compress the space I once contained You create a vacuum inside of me Rid me of my ability to hold someone to shelter them Stifle me Stuff me into a bag Leave me Remind me that tents are only temporary August 2016
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Bursting Your heart is a cloud soaking in the insults heavy with tears filling up you have almost reached your limit almost absorbed the pain almost waiting to hail, not rain… November 2014
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Breaking Vicious waves force us to clash smash, snap, splinter and shrink This beautiful ship is now driftwood crumbling floating further and further away Reduced to blame I am not whole I will the waves to bring us back together I am pulled further apart I will the waves to stop and when they do we are weaker than ever before Broken fragments of faint and beautiful memories April 2016
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Forgotten Tsunami wave, you Broken earthquake, you Raging hurricane, you are a mess You love to play your doll house games blue blankets, pink pillows colored trinkets and chains You sailed with your anchor down and were trapped in the storm swerving, swirling, spinning, stunned frightened, fractured, forgotten Undone Wandering rill, you Trembling terra, you Weeping wind, you are a mess June 2016
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A R D I TĀ Suffering
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Distances So full of unspoken words so full of unspoken stories so afraid to speak she keeps holding it in Bottling up the ocean isolated in the crowd she contorts to the point of breaking till she finally fits in February 2016
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Hollowed I hide behind paper dolls almost thin enough to see through big eyes and pretty smiles made up to look perfect I practice each word each sentence each thought Polish it till it’s hollow till there’s nothing left but an echo I try to filter myself Each word a reflection of these images but not of me September 2014
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alone She used to carry her weariness in her eye bags and her story on her forearms Her tear ducts filled with words unable to spill out She created tallies, counting how many times she wanted to feel numb How many times she couldn’t bear to feel Each line marking the end of one more useless day She hid the discomfort in her waist between the tucks of her stomach She hid her pain within the crease of her palm She hid her anger in her belly She put on a mask to hide the frown under her smile She kept her torment contained in the outline of her curved body just so it wouldn’t hurt her loved ones She drew fences on her arms cut them out with barbed wire so people would know to stay away She put up walls She said no so many times that soon she lost control And then the walls built themselves April 2014
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Locked Out A little house perched still and quiet the lights are dim curtains drawn doors and windows locked Travelers pass by from time to time trying to find a way in but the house is bolted shut Never has the owner come out not once Warmth wafts around but as they venture closer a cold chill crystalizes stay away stay away stay away Frozen out they give up Move on to the next hill the next house February 2016
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Precariously Fifty feet up tipping slightly to the right Just about to fall but then I catch myself Two sides divided Both pulling me I cannot find the balance so I stay still listening, waiting I begin again only to get stuck Two voices conflicting Two voices pulling me apart September 2015
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Balancing Definitions, outlines It’s time! Let’s color outside the lines for once Let’s embrace the differences for once Let’s pick up a crayon not a pencil for once Erase the outlines and free-style This is who you are You your notebook Your actions your brush strokes Your words your colors Your ideas your freedom September 2014
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Darkness and Light Red, the color of anger Black, the color of night Empty spaces in between empty and serene No control only pain Snake eyes watch quietly as the world turns to flame Flame Ash and finally Dust This rage has burnt out Blue, the color of peace White, the color of purity Empty spaces in between empty and serene September 2014
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BODHANA Awakening
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Imagine Being stuck in a cell four gray walls holding you in Now imagine freedom from this body and mind darkness demolished by Light and pain shattered by Love Look at the bright side stars painted against dark skies bringing new light to this world filled with shadows September 2014
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Hidden I am clay moulded year by year made to be unique I am a part of the soil rich with rare jewels which lie forgotten I am vulnerable easily impacted but my soul is strong I bend but will not break I am more than a lump of clay I am rich with wisdom beauty and inner peace I adapt but this essence will not change September 2014
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Perfection It is there I cannot ignore it A silhouette of every move I make A reminder of every action Each decision taken twice Every shadow a mirror This strong, this ebony night These things so hard to change This darkness isn’t bad Every memory recollected twice Every perfect moment, repeated June 2016
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Never Frozen in that moment I can smell the sea I can feel the salt in the air I watch as timid moonlight dances off black waves Lying on my stomach almost at the edge I am free of my fears All I understand is the sound of the waves crashing and the music of the wind Reluctantly I close my eyes not wanting to miss a second I immerse myself in this Moment I inhale all the pain but never forget to exhale December 2014
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Awaken We think… we are not Goddesses We do not have it easy None of us do We are the outliers strange, separate, solitary dancing only to the beat of our drums confident and content We are the introverts reserved, reflective, restrained listening to our own music silently singing along We are the thinkers We are the doers We are the only ones We can make a difference We are change itself We must stand up for what we believe We are the same of whom we complain Seeking to become Goddesses searching everywhere We fail to look within where our Goddess awaits Awakening September 2014 64
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Alone And though this fear may consume my mind and my body This spirit roams free No cage, no chains can hold me The sky is my playground This soul is my compass We are all one with nature No barriers, no walls can stop me February 2016
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E K AT VA Oneness
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Home Sometimes I fall like night So slow it feels like time might have closed its eyes and forgotten about me And when it finally opens them to see I rush back into blank space Navigating the way back to my place August 2016
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Together My hand looks minuscule in his I squeeze tight never wanting to let go of him He protects me from the harsh sun Covers me in the rain My other hand grips her delicate palm Her fingers like gentle branches intertwined in mine Feeding me and dressing me Showering me with flowers Together they lift me up I am on top of the world I have never jumped so high They lift me up and I am a ballerina leaping across the stage They lift me up I am a bird up above the clouds They lift me up and I never want to come back down September 2015
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Forever When I was two I was told to reach up high Just close enough to touch the sky Never told to pull myself back to earth I used to imagine I could switch off stars like lights blow away the storms at night just because I used to imagine I could climb the tallest tree And make my way up higher and higher till gravity no longer held me down I thought I was completely limitless but maybe that was the problem
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I was so wrapped up in my dreams I forgot reality that planets didn’t revolve around me I forgot that I was part of a community I forgot Three years later when I wanted my own pet star my father told me No and I cried thinking I was larger than life so why shouldn’t I be able to cradle the stars in my arms I didn’t understand that I didn’t have to reach up to feel the stars I could just sink my hands into the earth and feel like I was one with the universe It was my father who
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told me to bury my heart into the loamy soil I spent hours trying to decode his words rolled them over my tongue nothing made sense So I dug a hole buried my fingers and my toes and surprisingly I felt a pulse against my own I bent down pressed my ear to the ground and heard the beat of a thousand souls all playing a symphony of spirits of which I was a part My heart sang and the world sang with me I listened for hours until the stars rose again and called me up towards them September 2014
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As One I will make my dreams come true I will show you that I have learnt what you taught I will never stop chasing Go after what I believe No matter who stands in my way Prove that I am strong My head may be in the clouds my feet will stay planted firmly in the ground And no matter where I travel my roots are in the soil on which I was raised Those seeds of value which you buried deep in my heart which you spent hours nurturing and tending so many years ago are now trees
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providing love and shade from the harsh conditions life puts us in You are the sunlight the water and the air You support me while I grow The ones who tolerate me when I rage like a wild sea not wanting to be controlled who love me when solemn tears rain down on my heart who inspire me to sing like a bird unafraid to face the world You are a force of nature Which puts life into my universe You are my everything September 2013
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Waking Thought is false happiness The idea false hope Anger is false inspiration So what remains as truth? I create my destiny every step of the road I decide what is best for me no matter what I am told Truth lies in my heart In my soul Happiness, hope, inspiration Because of you, I have grown July 2014
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Being This is my safe house I sit and think as pen and paper engulf me like papers and ink I watch as my world turns to dust and all that is left is warmth, peace, quiet I need no more Memories take me over I observe and reflect as I let out the unheard voices I let go and connect inside The world outside nonexistent, distant, nothing That is all, and enough September 2014
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Acknowledgments First, I am grateful to the Divine force that runs through all things for giving me expression in this life. To Dada Vaswani, for his all-encompassing love, his radiant smile and endless wisdom. To all my other spiritual teachers who have inspired me through my life. To Paulo Coelho, whose work I love and whose deep spiritual nature has showered the world with blessings and joy. I am grateful to my parents, Shiv Vikram and Urvashi Rajya Laxmi Khemka, my grandparents, Nand Lal and Jeet Nabha Khemka, Pashupati Shumshere and Usha Raje Rana, my Chacha and Chachi, Uday Harsh and Nitya Mohan Khemka, and my Sanumua, Devyani Rajya Laxmi Rana, my sisters, Bhavani, Jayashree and Isha, and my brothers, Adidev, Jai and Aditya, for their constant love, guidance, inspiration, joy and laughter. I am also grateful to all my extended family who, in our age-old Indian/Nepalese tradition, treat me like their granddaughter, daughter or sister and whose blessings are always with me. I am deeply grateful to Raavi Sabharwal at Timeless books for his guidance and to his team for their efforts supporting the publication of my first book of poems and photographs. I am very grateful to Yamini Gandhi and her team at Incarnations Design for patiently correcting and helping design the book. My sincere thanks to Monica Antunes for her generosity, kindness, support and friendship.
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My love for photography was encouraged by the talented Kishor Kayastha to whom I owe a big debt of gratitude. This book would not exist without the love and encouragement of many others including my teachers and mentors through the years, at UWCSEA, Sanskriti, Stanford, Brown and Poet’s House who encouraged me to express myself and to believe in my voice. In particular, Saraswati Nagpal, Gowri Ishwaran, Diya Lambah, Bronwyn Bye, Kate Levy, Theresa Werner, Dave Johnson, Rebecca Van Laer, Rick Hannah, Ken McClure, Rob Storey, Gabriel Abad, Christopher Dreeson, Mirelle Couture, Anjali Raghbeer, Archana Kumari, Shefali Khushalani, Sumita Kumar and Anshu Bahanda. For my friends, who fill my life with laughter, understanding and delight. To all of them I am deeply grateful. Some who deserve special thanks include, Shantha Venugopal, Anoushka Chandra, Reika Iijima, Sovansakana Kong, Anusha Agarwal, Vartika Garg, Nayrat Mulla, Alina Idrissova, Nayantara Lamba, Daiki James Tsumagari, Sayed Taqi Shah, Deyvin Datwani, Ishaan Kumar, Amaara and Anunya Bahanda, Vedika and Vinayak Khushalani, Urvi and Udita Raghbeer, Shambhavi Gupta, Diya Anand, Atisha Pratap Singh, Bhairavi and Vinayak Singh, Yelim Yu, Julia Kim, Aida and Dina Baimenova, Enya Zibell, and Aarya Shah. To all these and many others go my deepest thanks. For anything you, dear reader, may find valuable in this book, all credit goes to their blessings, love and support. For all that may disappoint I take all responsibility and ask your forbearance for this first attempt.
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Gayatri is 17 years old and has grown up in Moscow, Delhi and now lives in Singapore, where she is a student at UWCSEA. She loves photography, service and dance. Her two elder sisters are studying at college in the US, where she hopes to follow them soon, to pursue her writing, computer science and theatre. Gayatri has been writing poetry since the age of 10. This is her first collection to be published. Gayatri considers herself at home in Nepal and India, and is an avid photographer. She has carefully chosen photographs from her collection to complement her poems. She believes that art needs to reflect a spiritual reality that eclipses our human existence and aspires to this in her poetry and photographs.
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