BLOG OF THE WEEK ~ SUMANA ROY

My friends, today we are so pleased to present to you Poets United's newest staff member, Sumana Roy. I am sure you have all encountered Sumana in the blogosphere. She is a frequent and faithful contributor to Poets United, and her work can be found at her blog, Vision. We featured Sumana in an in-depth interview in 2014, should you care to enjoy the photos and learn more about her life as a teacher in Balurghat, India. Sadly, since that time, Sumana lost her only daughter to illness, and the poems we chose for this week reflect the devastating grief that accompanies losing one's most beloved child.

Sherry: Sumana, We are so pleased to have you joining us at Poets United! And we offer you all our condolences on the loss of your beautiful Shruti. I am so very sorry for your loss. I chose three of my favourite poems of yours, that touched me so deeply when I read them, knowing they came straight from your heart. Let us take a look at Forget Me Not.

Sumana: Whenever I think of my daughter, her soft sweetness overwhelms me. I can’t help but visualize flowers in my mind’s eye. Her passing has taught me the transience of human life. Everything manifests for a few days only, like flowers. It’s not that I didn’t have that knowledge, but reading is one thing and going through the ordeal is another.

My daughter had a golden voice and could sing very well, specially Tagore songs. We Bengalis are very fond of these soul stirring songs. I believe flowers speak with us in their fragrance and hues. I do hear her voice in their bright forms. And I do remember those heavenly hours when she was inside me. I am amazed at the power of memories. I can still strongly feel that physicality even now. Every mother does don’t they? And I am glad that there is really a flower of this name ‘forget-me-not’. I wrote this poem in response to a prompt at a site that asked us to write Nature Haiku. So I did a cascade of three haiku. 

forget me not

My soul awakens

To their mellifluous hue

Forget-me-not blooms

 

Forget-me-not blooms

In every cell of my blood

When I think of you

 

When I think of you

You whisper in petal voice

Forget-me-not Ma

 

Sherry: So very touching, Sumana, her petal voice. And your Shruti is so beautiful! She Is Words is another with deep impact.

My daughter Shruti

Sumana:  My daughter was greatly inspired by Anne Frank’s diary keeping. I told her you could give a name to your diary like Anne did. Though she was not very fond of pets she gave it the name Kitty. At that time she was in fifth or sixth grade I think. She wrote occasionally even when she was grown up. I don’t have the heart to read her words. So I can’t touch her. She still lies undiscovered. When I place my hands on the leather bound pages I feel her transformation as words. And she is living there with her own voice though I am not in a condition to hear that now. So I dream of her new state. Is her voice a known one or is she a different person in words?  May be she is both. 

She Is Words

Those unread words

On the pages of your diary

Call me day and night

I have strength not

To touch or caress them

With all my heart

When the moon whispers

In her silver voice

Do those words sing

I wonder

You loved the gleaming disc

Glued in the sequined sky

The monsoon dance

On the tinned roof next door

Lulled you to sleep

You told me

May be the pages still hold

Those lively steps

The loud summer sun

You eschewed

Your sweetness calmed me down

Are those words made of that cool shade

Falling from the banyan trees

And wrapping up the weary souls

I wonder

Now

You are

Only words

My baby

Shall I touch you

In your word form

No, not now

Come to me

When I breathe my last

 

Sherry: This sort of breaks my heart, my friend. "Now you are only words, my baby." I know your grief is too fresh to read her words right now. But years from now, maybe, and you will discover her anew. I so love your closing lines, "Come to me when I breathe my last." And I know she will. 

 Sumana:  I have seen a number of people cursing fate, God and everyone for their misfortune. It’s no use blaming any one for what we face because that cannot take away our grief. It’s better to look upward. I am fortunate enough to live beside a holy stream of words coming from great souls that constantly uplift the mind which is so very difficult to control. I have seen that their words have a soothing effect on the mind. The ache subdues making the mind stronger giving it the power of forbearance. I try to live on the words of Sri Ramakrishna, Swami Vivekananda and Sarada Devi. When as a youth I read their sayings “God alone is real and everything is unreal (transient) I thought them to be very poetic. Now I know that they are True. Some words and memories are like light, they dispel darkness in a moment. The poem is written in this vein.

Light More Light

When my sadness

Trickles down my cheek

I look up

I hear

My trees singing in bird voice

Wiping my sorrow

Death cannot strangle me

With His stony, icy touch

For the sun’s caress

Warms me

Inside out

Pitch black sky of misery

Fails to engulf me

As joys of memory

Twinkle and glow

My Lord

Let Thy light

Shine in my heart

Till my last breath

                    

Sherry: I am inspired by the depth of your faith, Sumana, with which you bear the unbearable. As I was working on this feature, you wrote another statement of faith, which is so beautiful I simply had to include it. 

Sumana: Responding to Mary’s prompt at dVerse, I wanted to write about myself, my upbringing and a few of my favorite things. But as I began typing something strange happened. I began imagining myself as that land where I came from. O my! Nothing could stop me till I reached the end. The spirit of unity in diversity began to sing.  I touched ancient, medieval and modern India with the mention of a few names. I posted it and I thought it was complete. 

We have some great poets and readers in our community who really have an eye for details. After leaving a wonderful comment, our poet friend Hamish Gunn wanted to know where’s the Ganges…This river is our lifeline. India is incomplete without the Ganges. From the very ancient time, The Ganga has been worshiped as a Devi (goddess) and associated with so many myths and legends. Yet I had forgotten Her! I concluded the poem with the original name of India which is Bharat.

Where I Am From

I’m from the Divine Desire

I am the ancient land

Where Rishis saw the Mantras

Written in letters of light

And sang the Vedas

I am from the Divine Desire

I am the ocean

Embracing the streams of all Faiths

In my vast bosom

My face is of Ajanta painting

My two hands are

Chanakya and Aryabhata

My heart is of the Buddha

I speak in more than

Thousand tongues

I am from the Divine Desire

I am the divine song

Sung by the ecstatic Mirabai 

In presence of God

I am from the Divine Desire

I am the Dark Age

Where the righteous suffered

And sinners thrived

I am Suttee

Having climbed the pyre of my husband

I surrendered myself

To the sky touching flame

In many a birth

I am from the Divine Desire

I am a witness

I saw Them coming from other lands

Lashing me with their ruling whip

And trying to break

The backbone of my children

By holding them captive in their own land

I bore all      

Though the wound still oozes despair

I am from the Divine Desire

I am the flute

Of eternal lovers

I am the mother

Of all who resides in me

I am the dust grains on the streets

Still touched by holy feet

Bharat is my name

But all by mistake

Call me India

Sherry: Your faith is so inspiring, Sumana. The depth of beauty in your words uplifts my soul. Thank you for sharing the beauty of your love for your daughter with us. Also, a huge welcome to our staff. We are most fortunate to have you join us.

Well, kids? Are you wiping away a tear? Is your heart a little shaky from reading of such enormous love and sorrow? Me, too. This has been a very special one, my friends.

Do come back and see who we talk to next. Who knows? It might be you!