Author Archives: Rohini Sunderam

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About Rohini Sunderam

Semi-retired copywriter, writer, poet and occasional blogger

The Piper

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light2by Rupali Mistry
Piper, Piper, play me a song
So I can dance
And sing along

Piper, piper, I hear you now
And I’ll follow you
Beyond the clouds

Piper, piper, stop playing your pipe
For I’ll stay awhile
In this place of light

The Angel

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by Rupali Mistry

I asked if she
Would help me
To cross the street

My vision’s a blur
I don’t even hear
My bones as they creak

The street’s so wide
I cannot decide
Where to point my feet
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A Rant

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What happened to metre and feet?

Why how and when did the poets abandon them?

Were the strictures too tight?

Did they suffocate their flights

Of fancy?

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She Snake

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I escaped from paradise

Free in the green, the grey mist

The ice and sometimes sunshine…

How did the serpent find me here?

She with the brown-scaled skin, lidless eyes

Grey hood flaring slightly

Sipping whisky, noiselessly,

Mirthless smile and silent laughter

Lips lifted only slightly

Above the fangs and hollow affection

Watching and waiting to strike

And suck empty my egg of peace

In

One

Swift

Hiss

If I should look the other way.

This is some more old verse written many years ago.

On reading the youthful memoirs of Yevgeney Yevtushenko

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I came across this piece I’d written almost forty years ago and was quite prepared to relegate it to my personal slush pile or trash it. But, I do believe, we’re all rather attached to our own creations so I didn’t. Then at one of our poetry meetings David Hollywood asked us to write a poem about justice and present it at the following meeting. Since this was my own creation albeit many years before, I decided to read it to the group. And now I offer it to you. I’m curious, does it in any way give away the difference in age?

What is truth?” said jesting Pilate

As he mocked the Prince of Peace

The saddest fact that now remains

The scorner’s sentiment’s increased

And ‘truth’ having gone through much change

Now goes around in guises strange

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Writing exercise

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For a while at the Bahrain Writers Circle we used to have Creative Writing exercises that were started by Ana Paula Corradini, then continued by Shauna Nearing Loej and Anita Menon. The exercises began with a prompt and we were given about five minutes to take these forward wherever our wild imaginations took them.

Some, like the one below began with a prompt – as indicated by the opening lines – and then the coordinator would throw in random words, also in bold. The challenge was to incorporate these words and still tell a continuous, coherent story.

See what you would do with the following. Send in your stories and if I like them I’ll publish them here!

Wisps of hair quickly fell to the floor while words spilled from her mouth. She loved sitting in that chair pouring her soul out to a total stranger. Such therapy! She was harbouring thoughts of her evil deed and the words came out in code. The danger of speaking about this out loud wasn’t lost on her. She knew she shouldn’t say so much but she felt no shame as the hairdresser’s scissors snipped away her long locks changing her look completely. She was bewildered by the face that was emerging in the mirror. Did that look like a sinner? No. She was done. Changed. And then she rose, picked up her torch and walked into the night, knowing that the deaf hairdresser hadn’t heard a word. The soft velvet of the night embraced her.

Panchatantra – The Jackal & The Drum

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Continuing the Panchatantra tales in verse…

(So king Ping-a-laka settled down to hear

Dama-nak-a’s story, all about fear

And an unknown fear, as we all know

Must be faced in order for it to go)

And this dear friends is the tale we’ll hear

About the jackal and the drum he feared

 

The Jackal and the Drum

A hungry jackal went in search of food

And came to a deserted battlefield

But loud strange sounds made him feel not so good

And he thought to run from the battlefield.

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Panchatantra – The Monkey & The Wedge

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This story told in rhyme is a continuation of the first book of the Panchatantra, which as we know, consists of five books – Mitra-bhed: The Loss of Friends; Mitra-lābha or Mitra-samprāpti: The Gaining of Friends; Kākolūkīyam: War and Peace; Labdhapraṇāśam: Loss Of Gains; Aparīkṣitakārakaṃ: Ill-Considered Action / Rash deeds. The Monkey & The Wedge is the second of the stories contained within “Mitra-Bhed”.

The Monkey & The Wedge

So Dama-nak-a heard from Kara-tak

The story of the monkey and the wedge

How a merchant once began to build up

A temple of wood at his garden’s edge

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Panchatantra – The Loss of Friends

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The following is all thanks to Wikipedia: The Panchatantra consists of five books – Mitra-bhed: The Loss of Friends; Mitra-lābha or Mitra-samprāpti: The Gaining of Friends; Kākolūkīyam: War and Peace; Labdhapraṇāśam: Loss Of Gains; Aparīkṣitakārakaṃ: Ill-Considered Action / Rash deeds.

The next few tales in verse are from

The Loss of Friends

The first strategy, it’s quite a patakha*

The loss of friends, as told by two jackals

They were Kara-taka and Da-ma-naka

And these are their tales, not one but all…

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Panchatantra in verse

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As Wikipedia will inform you The Panchatantra (Five Principles’) is an ancient Indian inter-related collection of animal fables in verse and prose, in a frame story format. What I am attempting to do is to treat these in a modern verse format while, hopefully, retaining the original spirit of the stories. I realise this is a daunting exercise, but it is an interesting challenge for me!

The Prologue

Once upon a time, a long time ago

There was a kingdom in south Indi-a

King Amar-a-sakti ruled it, you know

Mahi-la-ro-pyam of South Indi-a.

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