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An evocative poem by Dr. Roopali about Pitrapaksha, when we pray, cook, and feed our ancestors, the patriarch’s ghosts that visit us, every year. The women-ghost perhaps are still neglected. An exclusive for Different Truths.
These quiet prayerful days when to light an oil lamp to walk inside memory lane beside those who passed over the rainbow a long time ago. A time to know the bones and the muscles which are yours now were theirs too. That smile, the twinkle in the baby’s eyes seem like the fading sepia photograph framed on a neglected damp wall. This time of the year when the sun’s rays slant away and the torrential monsoons go away they say, our ancestors visit us. These are those days when ghosts walk about casually dropping in just when its dinner time. Or you may see one under the tall mango tree. The one who had so lovingly planted the mango seed whose sweetness you had sucked. Most times the ghost ancestors are men... fathers, grandfathers, their fathers and sometimes that bachelor uncle who romanced the village girls. Stories abound of war, bullets and bravery. Of the Yeti on the mountainside his lock of hair's still preserved. Feasted and feted in their lifetime these extraordinary men are just a ghost of themselves. Hungering and longing for earthly food. Curried chicken or mutton roasted on a spit. A sweet and sour pumpkin with puris fried in oil. Rice boiled slowly in milk for hours with jaggery and nuts all pitaji’s favourite. A patriarchal ghost indeed. He will watch in ghostly silence as the raggedy poor will eat. And Mother? What should we cook for her? Ask the girls they were always with her. Her helping hands till soldiers in uniform came on horses and took them away to bear their sons. Amma? What did she like to eat? Who? Amma? Frail Amma. No one seemed to know. She ate after her husband and the children had eaten, they said. Whatever little remained. Sometimes nothing at all. Perhaps just a cup of tea?
Visual by Different Truths
Dr.Roopali Sircar’s poem SHRAARDH is a nice poem portraying the exact shraardhs happen in Indian villages. It brings out the pathetic condition of women in Indian society with reference to family system. Some glorify women for such dedication and sacrifice forgetting their own selves but in reality they have been inculcated and enforced to do so in the name of society, religion, community, custom and so on. The Poet rightly points out:
“Most times the ghost ancestors are men
Hungering and longing for earthly food
Curried chicken or mutton roasted on a pit
all Pithaji’s favourites.
….
And Mother, what should we cook for
She ate after her husband and the children had eaten Whatever remained
#Sometimes nothing at all”.
Dr.Roopali has kindked my thought and made to recollect Nissim Ezekiel’s THE SCORPION, many writings of Khushwant Singh and others who were much influenced Indian English writing with native sense. I feel happy about Dr.Roopali’s poems and critiques, a role model for upcoming Indian writers. All the Best to her.
Beautifully penned in a Country with traditions n rituals praying for d Anscestors with food offerings,is important in most faiths..
Women -we have never had equal opportunities.Even if she gets an education she’s Mom,daughter in law,lover,care giver
N d punching bag if one of d plates she’s balancing as she multi tasks falls and hell hath no fury of that plate,breaks.
Congratulations Roopali. ❤️🙏❤️🎈🎈🎉