The Frog

There I was sitting in the rain

All around me everything swampy and damp

I sat under the blanket of the star studded sky

Shining oh so bright and brilliant

So entranced was I in admiring this blissful view 

That I lost sight of the earth below 

I slowly followed the fireflies dancing down moonbeams 

As they reflected off the water puddles 

Then I heard a strange croaking noise prevailing the air 

As I paid closer attention, it struck me 

That some unidentified creature was frolicking around 

Jumping and serenading the stars above 

I looked very carefully at the creature then 

It was a cute little frog jumping around toadstools red 

I stared curiously at him and 

In return, he stared back at me intensely 

That's when I realized the frog was mesmerized 

All of a sudden a fly just buzzed by 

And without my knowledge 

My tongue unfurled 

Snapped it up, and swallowed it whole 

Astonished I looked back down into the puddle before me 

And observed myself in disbelief 

I now looked just like the frog!

©Alessandra Arora

 

You can watch and Listen to my poem Video:

In English: https://youtu.be/mpVaFuu1jGA

In Hindi: https://youtu.be/xG-VASztbc4 

THE TEA KETTLE'S JOURNEY PART 3

 

A new morning had dawned in the ‘Kitchen Kingdom’. There seemed to be a buzz of energy running through all its subjects. Something new was going to happen!! There were going to be a few new additions to the kingdom if all the whispers and complaints were to be believed. My Mistresses’ daughter had bought in a new rolling rack, new tea cups, a weird looking strainer, and an army of jars to go with it. While the whole kitchen was complaining about this, I felt a little relieved that maybe, just maybe, this break in routine would spare my hide from being burnt for a few days. I was eagerly looking forward to the respite and lost myself in the fantasy. I was so busy reminiscing about my life before the terror of constant burning and cleaning of my precious self, that I missed all the “FUN” my counterparts were having. The subjects of the ‘Kitchen Kingdom’ were being reassigned, courtesy of the new additions. The rack, it seemed, was not for the new jars and oddities the daughter had introduced to the kitchen, but for the spices, herbs, seasonings and jars on the counters. The knives were especially smug as they had been removed from the corner of the counter and placed closer to the stove; This placed them right next to the stand which housed the cutting board and the rolling pin, their best friends. The garam masala and meat masala were reunited on the rack and were wailing about how they had missed each other. They went on and on about how they never wished to be parted again. The red chili powder seemed to have had no such luck as it was introduced to a new array of spices. It cast forlorn looks towards the counter, as it seemed to have taken up the position of referee without choice, and was dreading the coming days. The reason for this was the size of its container; it was tall and wide enough to form a natural barrier between the species and the masalas. The chili powder fits snugly between the turmeric powder and the chili flakes. While the chili powder was having an identity crisis, the chili flakes were beyond content; they kept peeking fondly at cousin pepper on the right and brother chili powder on the left, happy to be reunited with the family.

Amid all these new changes, the weirdest one was the addition of the new jars, which seemed to be filled with all sorts of fragrant herbs and oddities that had never before been seen within the Kingdom. There was another new addition, with a smoky green sheen with darker green striation and a heavy looking base. The jade green motor and pestle took place of pride on the top shelf of the rack.

After cleaning and rearranging the kitchen with the help of the maid, the daughter took me down from my place and gave me a good wash. She proceeded to make a nice spiced warm masala chai for my mistress, the maid and herself. I welcomed the ritual, as for a few precious minutes I could focus on the roiling bubbles, the fragrant steam, and the welcoming warmth of the stove to chase away the cacophony of the disgruntled subjects within the kitchen. Just as the daughter finished adding the masala into the boiling mixture of tea leaf, sugar, and water; My mistress came in massaging her forehead, saying, “Thank god that meeting is finally over! I am so very ready for a nice long weekend to begin. I still have to work, but at least there won’t be any meetings for the next few days.”

My mistress flopped down into a chair and spent a few minutes with her eyes closed, breathing in the soothing scents of the kitchen. When she finally opened her eyes, she looked around the kitchen in shocked wonder, delighted to see everything in the room clean and organized. She was doubly appreciative of the new order of things. Her daughter took her around the kitchen and showed her where everything was kept, and as my mistress reached the cupboards with the new additions, her daughter’s excitement was palpable. She showed her mother the contents and told her she would tell her all the details, but first to have some nice tea and relax. Saying this, the daughter walked over to me and added in the milk. I faithfully bubbled, I boiled and brewed the perfect concoction within me, all the while thanking the stars when I was not even singed a little bit. A strange hope bubbled up in me as I watched my beloved mistress sip her tea and chat with her daughter and the maid, that just maybe, I would survive and could remain a part of this happy family scene for a very long time. My mistress sang my praises, complimenting my endurance and emphasizing my sturdy constitution. To suffer through the constant burning, the suffocatingly long soaks and still make her the perfect pot of tea, I had to be the absolute best.

The bells rung in my lightning heart
And a merry tune burst out of me with a start.
I will brew and I will bubble
A solution for all your troubles’
As there is nothing so bad, so dark and dreary
That can’t be solved, even for those who are weary.
So, when in need, set me on the hob
To celebrate a laugh, or to soothe a sob
I can make the perfect cup for every occasion
No matter your constitution or your station
You only need a cup of tea
Brewed to perfection within me.

 

©Alessandra Arora

I Walked A Path

 

RAIN

 

Rain

This rain is my best friend

It washes away my tears,

And hides them from the world.

When the first drops splash down

Mixing in with the parched ground

It gives me the best gift of all,

The earthy fragrance which brings me peace

The howling wind, the gentle breeze

That kisses my brow and brings me

Assurance that everything will be alright

 

This rain is my best friend,

It makes me happy,

It calls me out to dance

it’s my best dance partner.

It does not ask me to follow a routine

Or complain if I miss a beat.

 

This rain is my best friend

Because as I drench in it,

I feel the refreshing chill permeate my being

it washes my body, mind, and soul clean

of all my bad memories and omens.

 

This rain is my best friend

It’s a gift from God to me

It’s my companion and I love it.

It gives to me freely,

Asking for nothing in return.

And if it ever takes from me,

It’s only the pain and sadness

The bitterness of hurt from my life.

 

This rain is my best friend

It fills me with bliss and renews my faith.

It shows me my strength

My will to carry on, to love, to hope,

And above all to feel at peace.

 

This rain is my best friend

It is the perfect backdrop for me to relish

A cup of hot coffee, and a book.

It sets my mood to paint and dance.

It sets my mood to write and love.

It sets my mood to make music and sing.

It’s the best companion for me

When I’m feeling low or alone.

 

This rain is my best friend

Because it reminds me of myself,

It brings me close to all that’s mine.

 

It washes away all the muck

It helps me unearth my true self.

I have the courage to dream,

the patience and support needed to fulfill the dreams

And I am filled with passion and ambition.

 

This rain is my best friend

Because it brings me joy and Freedom.

It shows me love and compassion.

And most of all

It brings out my passion into action…

So yes, this rain was, is and will always be

My best friend.

©Alessandra Arora

 

 

BREAKING FREE

 

The doors were sealed

No way to go

The lights were shut

In the dark

 nothing to show

What an existence was this

That I longed not for light

But even just a shadow

 

In stepped the fates

The three figures great

And broke the bonds

And gave the means

In the darkness an angel sent

Even though all my energies were spent

A final chance for me to see

And be the best and be free

 

The darkness gathered

Producing a light

And through this light

I summoned force

And shattered the curse

That had followed me ever since

I was just a toddler

Doomed by my kin

 

Now I step into the light

The spell destroyed

And devastated those of might

Who in the past had held me down

Wrapped in chains and by demons bound

The angels freed me and let me be

The truest version, the most powerful me

Now, those that bound me will forever rue the day

©Alessandra Arora

 

 

IF HE HAD JUST…

On a lonely moonless night, within the four walls of her prison that seem to be closing in on her a little bit every day sat the once glowing starlight. It was sad to see this once happy and brilliant bloom washed out of all hope and color. For a long time, she fought with the same possible scenarios day and night. If he had just been a bit kinder…If he had just gone away at the beginning… If he had a conscience… If he could have seen me as a living breathing human being… If he had just not viewed me as a possession… If  he could have just loved me… If he had just… the possibilities were endless. She was not forced by anyone into her prison, not directly at least. It was all executed in a very subtle manner. The threats were spoken as just pieces of information and incomplete sentences. There was a time when the pain was much more real, felt in body, mind, soul, and spirit, and managed to crack them too. The pain of a broken heartfelt at an age when personality and perceptions are formed.

She waged a battle every day, she fought hard, tooth and nail just to stay afloat. Dark and dreary were her dreams like storm clouds in the sky, roaring, and thundering, but hope, that ray of hope always lingered like the sun waiting to shine through and break free. Some days the battle was won, and other days she lost, but she never did consider to lay down her weapons and surrender. The fleeting thoughts and temptations did come. That cold voice at the back of her mind saying “Give up, stop fighting and just rest. Give in and lay down, conform. It has been more than a decade since you had any victory to show the outside world.” Sometimes it seems so easy and she wanted to but she just could not.

The sun did shine through one day. Not like the brilliant floodlight but a small ray, a ray that was so delicate and fragile, so beautiful and pure. It was small, but it was there nonetheless. She woke up one day and instead of thinking if he had just… she thought, thank God he did. Thank God he did what he did and showed his true nature. Thank you, God. Thank you for that experience and most of all Thank God for my past and the strength to fight for a better day.

Then came the day when she sat within those four walls that were her self-imposed prison and all the darkness, the filth, the wretchedness, ugliness, and pain of the past she laid out on paper and said “You are mine. You are my past. And I am glad for you, for without you I could never be who I am today. I accept you for all that you are, you will always stay with me, but it is time for you to just be a memory, not a painful one, not a bleeding hurt, just a memory in a box. A box I will open and look into to know my strength, my warrior spirit, and to find courage.” And so she left it all behind and walked down the path that lay illuminated within her mind, the path that was shadowed by the beautiful tall trees with the dancing rays of sunlight casting mesmerizing shapes and shadows on the soft moss-covered path deep into the woods of life. Never to turn back, never to regret, and never to forget the lessons the past had taught her, the lessons that man had taught her. She stepped onto the path that lay before her, with the fates as her loving companion. She finally laid that last scenario to rest. If he had just not been her father.

©Alessandra Arora