Of Few Poems and Amaltas..

Sometimes there is not much to write by way of a 'post' but a recurrent thing/theme/object also wouldn't allow one to find peace until one gets it out of one's mind. Come summers, and as its time for the Laburnum flowering, no matter where I am, a surfeit of 'Amaltas' memories start playing in my head. 

The memories go far back to our school days when we would come home on sizzling afternoons and the streets of Delhi would be paved with either the 'gold' of Amaltas or the 'crimson' of Gulmohar. As years passed, the daily 'struggles' and far more 'important' things crowded the mind space and one no longer even spared a thought of the same. And yet, today, nearly two decades years later, staying in a district where I have managed to come across just one Amaltas no matter how hard I try to find, I pine for my hometown and its 'streets of gold'. 

Each time I think of Amaltas, my most stirring memory is that of my dear friend (and hostel mate KC) leaving JNU and two of us setting out early on the day of her departure to take as many pics as possible of our beautiful campus. Today when I look back at those pics, nearly all of them seem to present a yellow splurge in the backdrop. If I am lucky enough to find, I would add to this blog post a pic (of the same tree of gold growing inside our Godavari hostel) that I happened to capture during my last visit (which in turn has precious memories of its own). Though a lot of water has passed under the bridge since we left our alma mater, a few things are caught in a time warp. Am sure each of us who carry a bit of JNU in our hearts, will always also carry a bit of this gold.

Years later as life took me to the arid Bundelkhand where summers meant a challenging time of misery, droughts and fires, and the landscape turned dreary into the color of dust, it was once again only a few trees (Amaltas, Gulmohar, Palash and Mahua) which would provide succor to the eyes and the soul alike. Needless, my 'gilted' memories are the only thing I carried along as I waved goodbye to Bundelkhand twice!

Leaving Delhi almost a decade back (and living in multiple places before I could settle and call Lucknow my home), once again my eyes are invariably drawn to Amaltas in bloom anywhere on the streets of Lucknow. Yet a particular favorite of mine is a feeble Amaltas near the Loreto crossing that I saw everyday on my way to the State Secretariat. It doesn't remain in bloom for long nor there is anything special associated with the same and yet I couldn't help making it a part of my art journal and writing a few lines about it.

There was this lovely yellow tree

Everyday it seemed to be greeting me

On my way to the work

My own little happiness quirk 

 (14 May, 2015)

As I shared my art journal entry (sans the poem) with friends and family, long stories flowed in (not to mention a century of 'likes')! Of particular mention are the two poems I received. Not just that these poems need to be shared, the memories would no longer be complete without them.

अमलतास / गुलज़ार


खिड़की पिछवाड़े को खुलती तो नज़र आता था
वो अमलतास का इक पेड़, ज़रा दूर, अकेला-सा खड़ा था
शाखें पंखों की तरह खोले हुए
एक परिन्दे की तरह
बरगलाते थे उसे रोज़ परिन्दे आकर
सब सुनाते थे वि परवाज़ के क़िस्से उसको
और दिखाते थे उसे उड़ के, क़लाबाज़ियाँ खा के
बदलियाँ छू के बताते थे, मज़े ठंडी हवा के!
आंधी का हाथ पकड़ कर शायद
उसने कल उड़ने की कोशिश की थी
औंधे मुँह बीच-सड़क आके गिरा है!!

The Laburnum Top/ Ted Hughes 

The Laburnum Top is silent, quite still

in the afternoon yellow September sunlight,
A few leaves yellowing, all its seeds fallen
Till the goldfinch comes, with a twitching chirrup
A suddeness, a startlement,at a branch end
Then sleek as a lizard, and alert and abrupt,
She enters the thickness,and a machine starts up
Of chitterings, and of tremor of wings,and trillings -
The whole tree trembles and thrills
It is the engine of her family.
She stokes it full, then flirts out to a branch-end
Showing her barred face identity mask
Then with eerie delicate whistle-chirrup whisperings
She launches away, towards the infinite
And the laburnum subsides to empty

There are a number of people who have stood by us in life's journey and who have left an indelible imprint on our lives. Incidentally, many of them already know of my 'Amaltas love' and were not surprised to receive a-middle-of-the-year-no-rhyme-or-reason 'Thank You' card that carried a pic of (you guessed it) AMALTAS! 

However, the story doesn't end here. I came to know, my 'yellow fever' has truly caught on, when,(living far away from my loved ones,) one morning I unexpectedly received  the adjoining pic and realized sometimes no words need to be said.