Sangeetha Kamath

While there was no dearth of dispiriting news floating around during the pandemic, this was one unexpected blow! How deeply I was mourning the passing of my former school headmistress, even as I put one more chapter to rest in the confines of my treasured memories.  I was fortunate to have 'Sister' as my headmistress in primary school. Although I feared her greatly, I was also one of those lucky few who got to see her nurturing side. She had made it a point to give me company every evening while I waited for my father to pick me up from school, which would inevitably be long after dismissal time due to his work constraints.   We're talking of the '80s here when there were no after-school facilities in my beloved hometown. I would constantly be the lone student in the portico and it meant a lot to have an authoritarian figure looking out for my safety and well-being. I was one those painfully shy nerds who by default went into the good books of the teachers and was in th

The ladder of life battles gusty storms and shifting sands Wavering on buoyant tides and on undulating lands Through seasons sizzling and frigid winds baying Grappling on steep slopes weary feet trudging Rung after rung are slippery we most often fall More than the zenith it's the nadir we face, yet we stand fearless and tall With grit and aim we brave the highs and lows Life doesn't come in pretty packages tied with satiny bows The pinnacle was never an easy game Downfalls and pit stops are abound on the road to fame Recharge, reboot, rest and recover Quitting is not a solution, let no naysayer push you into a corner With pulsing stars the ultramarine dark skies come alive at night Even an eclipsed moon glows pearly bright Dark clouds livid hover ominously Even this will pass and you will rejoice immensely. ©️ Sangeetha Kamath  Pic Courtesy:Image by Rondell Melling from Pixabay

Flights of fancy is loaded in poetry in the verses, stanzas and in the songs When we'd like to think— to the stars the moon belongs A fireball of tangerine we call the sun Sprinkle of diamond dust are these stars dipping in the horizon The shadows long and deep  Look like monsters on the floor about to crawl and creep Fireflies are glittering crowns of angels from the realm celestial  Butterflies and dragonflies on gossamer wings faeries in disguise mystical The ocean depths hide a jewel studded place for mermaids and dolphins The coral reefs, their garden in the shimmering aquamarine  Sonnets and Haikus are laden with imagination Abstract thoughts are written in free verse with rhyme and reason Moonlight and music are like magic spells Fantasy and fancy run riot when I seek a tiny fairy hidden in buttercups or the opulent bluebells Raindrops become rhythmic and the sunshine, therapeutic Colors and hues of the sunset look mesmerizing, they're oceans in the sky; hypnotic. ( 16

  Juna darted her eyes around, following the strokes and the flow of the pencil across the  book.  She was blue-gold macaw who flew about the house freely, though at night, she was safely put back in her cage which hung in the living room. Juna loved her snug spot with some sunflower seeds and a bowl of fresh water every day. She had picked up the language of her household, the Greenwoods. Her favourite phrase was, “ Good Morning, how may I help you?” after listening in on phone conversations. Much to everyone’s vexation, Juna started imitating dialogues from the movies and television and there wasn't a moment’s respite with her constant chattering.  At the moment, she was perched, claws digging softly into Peggy's shoulder. Looking over her homework, Juna started mimicking Mrs. Greenwood's nagging tone asking her to speed up and to come down to dinner. Frustrated with a complex math problem and with Juna’s non stop monologue, Peggy blurted out, “If you don't get out ri

  Shimmering skeins of gold crocheted in my midnight blue tresses Wild blazing comets tearing through hundreds of swirling galaxies A million shards of stardust I hold in my throbbing heart Shell pink sunrises and primrose dawns awash on my courtyard  Indigo nights of melon moon casting nectarine halos Adorning the dewy obsidian canvas are luminous moonbows  Ripples of tangerine and swirls of carmine Laminates the horizon as the empyrean fades to pastel amaranthine  In a dazzling city of amber and loud neon lights Your love is a rustic lone lamppost glowing softly and bright A weather-beaten lighthouse twirling it's beacon To guide a lost ship to safe shores from a cold misty curtain  Sparks spurt as the kindling is stoked in the bonfire logs Sunbeams dance on rolling currents as the cyan waves rise and fall In the rich honeyed flicker of candlelight We dance to crumpled songs and search for stars on the blackest pewter nights Even during our eclipsed hour and frosty season A scint

The night was restless, silent and too long Excitedly waiting for a new dawn to arrive with her chirpy song Shedding the sable cloak off her shoulders Darkness rolls from the arms of the moon alabaster  Brave is the sky when the moon disappears  Vanishing from sight, the twinkling stars too coyly obscures Wriggling like a newborn from a fleece blanket The rays washes the frills of clouds in crimson and scarlet Gauzy shimmer appears on the horizon And I see a sliver of crest of the rising sun Gliding across the sky lazily, the tangerine fireball shimmers brightly Rising over treetops and bathing the rooftops nascently The air is perfumed as buds and blooms joyously unfurl The mild gusts of breeze ruffles the waves of my tousled curls The apricot sky breaks into splashes of colors, ribbons and streaks I watch the new day waltz in to paint all my dreams. ©️ Sangeetha Kamath Image by Calla Negra from Pixabay

Glinting sunlight off jeweled pools of sapphire Shimmering in the vast aridness of coppery fire Fringed with a viridescent canopy of trees fig and fronds of palm A sanctuary for birds and animals to splash about, it's a soothing balm Scorched and parched, my soles trudge on the sun baked grains Seeking respite from the bleeding crimson fireball, stranded I remain Mounting sand dunes, slipping, tumbling, sinking Scraped and raw, peeling sunburnt skin  Veils of illusion lifts from fleeting dreams and hollow shine Fading hues of paradise around reduced to shriveled creepers and withering vines Imperial silver puddles on blazing bronze sand Deceived again by the phantom of the parched land Visions and charms swirl like a mist under a chrome moon Conjuring sprites of the desert weave mirages of oasis and lagoons Sailing across a barren horizon are walls of crystal waves No water lilies and wild roses unfurl under  these mystic skies. ©️ Sangeetha Kamath Pic Courtesy: Pixabay 

  It was bonfire night! The winters were delightfully cold and the warmth from flames was equally welcome. As the sparks flew into the night sky like orange-gold stars in the hope to meet their diamond brethren, the flames crackled and danced away in celebration of this star-studded night. The winter chill sizzled as the golden halo spread heat on our palms and in our hearts. The fiery orange in our backyard made it seem like the sun had settled in there instead of disappearing behind the mountains.  Dad chopped the branch of fir into twigs with precise rhythmic swings of his axe. Mother set up chopping boards and sliced potatoes into thick circular wedges, wrapped them in foils along with sweet snow peas and tossed them into the bonfire. How my brothers and I loved roast potatoes as midnight suppers. Our faces had lit up with the frisson of pure joy on that starry December night. It was a wild night, a night of adventure.  We weren't affluent enough, so we spread out sleeping bags

Take me home to yesterday when I would sail paper boats in the rain  Paper planes under the sun, again and again Climbing trees in apple orchards and scraping knees against the walls Falling with a thud, didn't deter us at all Tripping on pebbles and hobbling on paths Evenings were for outdoors and a cozy gathering for cheer and hearty laughs Hearts melted when baby birds chirped or kittens mewed Counting stars by the night and watching clouds in the day, happy was all we knew to be even as seasons changed Plucking flowers and tucking them in my hair Gazing at colourful butterflies as they flutter and flit in the air When reality melded into dreams and nothing seemed to matter No lies to be exposed, no facade to shatter Deep inside lies a sweet memory, a whisper of the past  A fairytale grown up life is not, good girls always finish last No kingdoms with rainbows, unicorns and happily ever after Courage is to be drawn from within, there aren't any knights in shining armor  On t

There was that face staring back at her. An uncanny resemblance. The tilt of the head, the arch of the brow and the lopsided grin all a stark reminder of that fateful evening at the town square twenty years ago.  *** Excitedly Marta and Malcolm had set off together, hand in hand to stroll around at the fair and buy their favourite snacks and toys. Marta, all of eight had been instructed to take care of little Malcolm, then four and to never let go of his hand or lose sight of him at any time. Marta was in charge most of the time when her parents were at work in the fields and it was no big deal. Malcolm always looked upon his sister who was like a second mother to him. A gigantic carousel was set up with unicorns, horses, polar bears and even dolphins. Munching on salted popcorn while holding a cotton candy in another, Malcolm refused to be led by the hand. Marta put her arm around his shoulder and they walked around.  She adored her baby brother with his twinkling blue eyes, flaxen lo

 Under the spreading branches of a juniper tree stands a mailbox forlorn in the winter's snow Derelict with a moss covered facade, the house too is a treasure trove of souvenirs and a curio The door, a color of summer violets and forget-me-nots blue Waits for someone to knock on it to make all their dreams come true As I hold this old photograph between the strings of my heart Speaking volumes about the history of this quaint little town is only a start  From a sliver of time, a tiny vault of memory whispers a strain of melody An unwritten story, an unsung song or a heartfelt poetry  Upon the sun-warmed beach we had built sandcastles, turrets and towers Snapshots as we picked seashells or in the sand, carved some flowers  Swathed in silks your hair had shimmered like diaphanous pixie wings under the autumn moon Your eyes radiant like a chatoyant jewels had glittered with hues of the ocean and water lilies in bloom If my world was a palette of paint, you were the blue of my sky  The