MOTHER and MEMORIES – By Jeewan Ramlugun
Filial affections often remain wishful or ineffable. Over time, they find their expressions in words woven during contemplative moments, the gems of reminiscences ever agleam in the afterglow. To our mother we always turn, to mother nature, to mother earth, our spiritual anchors, our existential constants.
In this collection of poems, I reminisce about my late mother, about my family members, and about my birthplace- in a continuation from my previous works, such as, ‘Kith, Kin and Kindred Spirits’, and ‘Poetry from Paradise’.
The first section of ‘Mother and Memories’, dwells in the main on my memories of my mother, through the shared sentiments of my siblings. They are emotionally-laden poems.
In the second section, in sounds, tastes and smell, I conjure images of both my early and later life in Mauritius. I nostalgically recollect my most recent impressions of times spent in my homeland during work assignments and visits.
There are philosophical reflections, musings and ruminations on topical events and happenings. I bemoan the passing of the simple, pristine past, yet heartily celebrate the magic of the present and all that is laudable about progress and modernism.
I keep my memories of cherished moments alive and vivid through poetry.
In my previous poetry collections, Wellsprings: Poems of Life & Nature’, and ‘Bushy Park: A Collection of Poems’, I give full vent to versifying about the glories of nature, beyond time and space.
I continue to write poems and I have more than four volumes yet to be published. It has become a lifetime passion and preoccupation. I only write prose in the occasional academic publications and research papers.
In the preparation and arrangements for the publication of this book, my brother Raj’s help has in many ways, been most invaluable, and the support of the President’s Fund For Creative Writing in English has been especially salutary.
This book of poems is on sale in the following bookshops: Le Trèfle, Curepipe, Le Cygne – Rose Hill, BookCourt – Bagatelle, Le Printemps – Vacoas.
A Mother
A mother gives us birth.
all the good spoken about her she’s worth;
she sings us to sleep;
she never lets us see her weep;
but when about her tears she cannot be coy
she’ll claim they are for joy;
when with hunger her stomach growls,
she’ll pretend it’s the rumble of the cymbals;
when she carries us on her back
and toils in the sun it’s not for any lack
she’ll protest it’s to save
for the rainy day. She’ll be brave
even when she fears the worst,
to protect and nurture her nearest and dearest.
…
Mother for ever
In the enigma
of your smile
is the mirror
of your soul
that both joys
and sorrows
has in near
equal measure
known.
The lights of stars
the sun
and the moon
sparkle
in your countenance
that contains
us all.
Your facial creases
and folds
fond and fraught
come to light
at a singular moment.
As we live our lives
we remember
all that survives
into the future.
as all the yesterdays.
…
Moments
It is the usual monsoon season,
the papaya-laden tree
bracing the cold wet wind.
Tea is made
not by mother
on this occasion.
She breathes deeply elsewhere
in her sanitised sanctum.
If all our breaths
she could have,
without machines,
her chest would heave
unhindered.
I sojourn on, catching glimpses
of brighter times
in the subdued lushness
of this subtropical isle,
in this Eden of a home.
…
Forever remembering
In this stillness I hear
the echoes
of our dawn,
when our futures began
amid green, yellow cornfields,
sweetly promising canefields,
mother’s clattering
in the kitchen,
the minuets of mynahs
on sound waves of memories
carried,
now washing over the shores
of reminiscences.
…
Holding on, just
The statuesque mountains
in their granite grandeur
that I have carried
in memory are
proving unwieldy as I turn less
superhumanly.
The waves of the ocean
lapping gently
in my consciousness
within safe bounds
now instil some fear
the sirens serenading
and enchanting
no longer.
But the charmed island,
my oyster of a world
in spirit I cannot surrender,
carrying it with me forever.
…
Now in the mind
When the morning light
on the bamboo fence
plays and the wind soughs,
all the scenes within sight
comfortingly familiar,
then I cannot but think
of you in your attire
hastily donned, making
for the cosy shack
of a kitchen
to brew tea
with an aroma, the urn’s
incense blending intensely,
lingering in memory.
…
Myrtaceous marvels
Jamalacs in white and pink
deliciousness,
jamblons in dark juiciness,
evoke exotic ecstasy
even in the thinking or merely
in the imagining,
feeding insatiable longing.
It is all beyond our reaches
now, too high on the branches
of the unattainable treetops
of our ‘sky is the limit’ aspirations.
It is not unlike watching rows
of these delectations
in the street vendors’ glass cases
not affording any purchases.
…
Footprints
The nostalgic leads,
the connecting strands
to early idylls
have now almost gone.
The bamboo-lined roads
linking Les Casernes
to the higher plain remain.
Our former school at Robinson
via a short-cut is reached
still, but now unwooded,
less enchanted.
Heated discourses on roadsides
have quietened,
home life now cosier.
The barber on the corner
seems will be there forever,
though a snip at a fiver
is no longer on offer.
Down the dip, past a stream
and up full steam
Camp Caval is there
to offer a bird’s eye view
of less of the old
and more of the new,
from the distance to recognise
the simulacrum of our lost paradise.
…
Rustic recollections
In the morning of my life
I walked with you,
at a quicker pace
to keep up,
I , lost in my own diversions
you, at work,
often thankless.
You kept a stoic outlook
and even smiled for us, overburdened
though you were.
Noons, afternoons, and evenings
were spent with mixed emotions,
but with many a joyful spell,
nights refreshed body and soul.
…
Valetta & beyond
You evoke vivid recollections
when the mists of memories
lift and clear,
lush swaying cane fields
suddenly appearing on our way
to Lalmatie, mother’s birthplace
where we spent endless hours
in pleasant disports
where her kinsfolk
kept the hearth
of human warmth burning.
These landmarks of early journeying
with indelible place names
are engraved in our hearts.
