The Rose and the Fox

It was in the year 2011; I had a work session in Paris.
By sheer chance, I met a young German woman. Her name was Rose. She had every reason to bear such a lovely, adorable name. We shared many ‘likes’- FaceBook, writing, reading and Indian food. Over a hot and spicy vegetarian meal, she confided in me that she was in love with an Indian guy. Unfortunately, the feelings were not reciprocal. The Indian guy, she told me, was the fox in the tale of St. Exupery. This is how the story unfolds-
“Once, a fox came down a valley of roses;
He approached a rose and gently whispered to her –
You are the most beautiful rose in the world!
The rose replied – No, sir! You are mistaken!
We are all of equal beauty!
The fox, blinded with love, went on his knees and mumbled inaudibly –
 No! You are the most beautiful of all!
The fox was so very deeply in love.
 In the whole valley covered with thousands of roses,
He had eye for only one rose; His chosen one!’
End of story”
I noticed big, salty tears running down the rosy cheeks of Rose and falling in her plate.
 Rose! You’re crying! I exclaimed.
 No! It’s the gravy! It’s too hot! She lied, wiping her tears. Anyways, she added woefully, I am not the rose of the fox. His rose is the most beautiful rose in the valley!
I nearly choked with unexpressed sadness but was unable to console her. I promised her from the core bottom of my heart that she will, one day, find her fox too. We parted.
As I strolled down Place de la Republique, these comforting thoughts crossed my mind –
Women are fragrant roses in the valley of God;
For every rose there is a fox down the valley 
Who loves her more than anything in the whole world

http://poetryofanitabacha.com/

 

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GREEN BERYLS

Two drops run down her cheeks;

In the space of one breath,

I caught the pearls,

Roll them between my thumb

and index finger,

Smell them,

Guess their taste of honey melon,

“Why do they taste so sweet?”

“Don’t Know!”she replied peevishly.

“Your eyes are so beautiful.”

“I know “she said, wiping her tears.

“What’s the colour of your eyes?”looking deep inside.

“Saxon green!”

“Yes, indeed

and I see the brilliance of the sun.”

“There are clouds too”she said

IMG_7469.JPG “Clouds make the rain,

then fall as tears!”

Anita Bacha 

 

NOSTALGIA

Nestled in my arms

You doze off like an angel

Your cheek resting against my breast

Your heart beating to the pace of my heart

I could stay here

Motionless

Watching your sleep

Rave about the moment of joy

To have you all to me

In the stillness of the night

To me all alone

Like the moon to the sky

Alas! The night passes

 The morning dawns

The sad reality of life hits me brutally

Awakens me from my slumber

I unlock my arms in a shudder

 Look one more time at your pretty face

And, I hold a cry of agony!

I swallow my tears!

I have to let you go!

– Anita Bacha –

(9 January 2014  TOMBEAU BAY)

Processed with Moldiv

 

 

 

A RED ROSE

South Indian Rose

South Indian Rose Picture/Illustration/Source/Internet

                   

My parched lips touch the crypt furtively

The biting of the white marble

Down my spine runs shudders weirdly

My eyelids flutter in bewildered rapture

Drops of tear fall down my cheeks

Merging in the dew of a red rose hungrily;

A red rose on your tomb laying silently

With trembling hands I cup the red rose

On my heart I press firmly

A token of your love,

A vestige of the unforgettable past;

The words of my poetry

Where do they come from?

The rhythm of my song

Where does it stem from?

The fragrance of the red rose

Where does it spring from?

The words speak of your love

The rhythm speaks of your love

The red rose speaks of your love

Of your warmth, your tenderness

Your immaculate beauty

They have woven precious history

Is this the end of our story untold?

Or the beginning of a new romance,

An eternal saga of two souls?

Anita Bacha 

 

The Sea

 

img_2206

 You growled loudly;

Your hoarse voice I heard clearly;

My steps I hastened towards you;

Halted on the sand still warm,

Out of breath,

The sea, I‘ve been watching you!

Mysterious, a woman you resembled;

In the darkness,

A few stars had assembled,

I imagined your gorgeous beauty,

Gauged your ferocious mighty;

A strong smell I breathed in,

Tears, I guessed, had turned your water salty;

Sated, I turned around,

Ran away to hide,

Returned to my bed to cry;

 

Dawn came, birds chirped noisily;

Awoken, I listened to your silence;

Walked back to watch you, the sea,

Basking in tender quietness;

Behind you, the glorious sun had risen;

Your hair flowing, angry and rippled

In a gentle caress was softened

Hugged like a fond lover

Kissed over and over,

Lulled you were in his delicious warmth;

Conquered by his irresistible charm,

Tranquil, you had fallen into his arms;

Hushed, you were the sea,

A lost love you had found

Anita Bacha

(Pereybere- Mauritius 2013)

The Sea