I stared at the rain soaked sky in the monsoon of the year. The streams of water rolled all over the windows like thin rivulets, as the car kept creeping like a snail along the famous Marine Drive in Bombay. I saw the face of the drowning sky, and thought of another kind of river, one that runs through every one of us, regardless of our origin, all over this earth. It’s the river of the heart. It is the rhythmic pulsations of that muscle trapped within our chests. It spells the desires of the heart.

Long ago, decades ago, I had danced in this same rain. The ankle bracelets in my feet had kept their rhythm to my dancing feet. My hair clinging to my face and back, and my arms outstretched. The sound of the rain falling on the broad leaves of the Banyan tree sounded like an orchestra. That sound, still mesmerizes me whenever I visualize the image of the rain falling on those leaves.

Today, as I drive in this rain, my heart knocks at the threshold of my soul and asks me where I was headed and what I had become. It asks me why I had not stood up and faced the powers that be, about their harsh punishment which subjected me to this life with someone I knew not, and didn’t care about.

My heart had broken on its shame and sorrow. The torment of a life lived in the mire of pretext, blamed me for what I had not done and what I had become. I could not respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things well. I learnt to accept. I let my vagabond spirit lay still, and didn’t question. I let myself be sacrificed to someone else, and didn’t complain.

And now, when these rains come a pouring and knocking at my threshold, the sleeping spirit awakens and keeps nagging me, “Why, why did you do this to yourself?

ZSA Feb 2016.

About Zakiah

I write poetry and some fiction, have a book that was published in 2012. . . Stray Thoughts/Winged Words. I have four grandchildren, ages 16 and half to almost 16 months. I love the ocean, and grew up along the Indian Ocean in South India. I am a retired physician. Don't know much else to say. Thanks for reading. That has been my profile for so many years. My daughter Saadia a great poet and story teller, has two sons; the oldest grandson is now 21 years old, doing architectural engineering at Missouri S&T in Rolla MO. His younger brother is almost 16 and taking driving lessons seriously and is in High School. The other two grandsons, children of my son Sayeed, are 9 and 5. I have recently published another book titled Gulistan, A home of Flowers. It has stories and memories of my childhood and of a distant land which I still consider as my HOME., even though I have lived here in the US for more than fifty years. Hope to see you on my blog.
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8 Responses to QUESTIONS

  1. slmret says:

    A wonderful bittersweet metaphoric piece, Zakiah! It’s sad to see one blaming one’s self for the wrongs of their culture — the sleeping spirit was left behind in the acceptance of your culture — and you have lived a very successful life despite those wrongs that your culture taught you. Love and hugs!

  2. theinfiniterally says:

    I’m knocked over. This is powerful, emotionally naked writing. A masterpiece. ❤

  3. Well written–so very powerful. Lots of emotions there and it evokes lots of emotions in me. You should consider writing a book. Just my two cents. Love and hugs.

  4. The rain inspired you a so beautiful poem Zakiah, nostalgy of the youth dancing joyously in the rain and in the wind of the freedom . Then we have to walk without looking behind on the way of life . But, this way of life , did we choose it really ?You are on the threshold of the mystery of life.
    Love ❤

  5. The rain is so beautiful, healing and peaceful to me…but sometimes I take walks in the rain to cry.
    Your writing brought tears to my eyes…I could feel the emotion in the words/story. I think at some point in our lives we all have those same wonderings, and thoughts…and ask ourselves similar questions related to our own lives/choices, etc.
    Your writing is always a joy to read! 🙂
    ❤ and HUGS!!! and Happy Whee-kend!!! 🙂

  6. I love how you bring rain to life. It can symbolize so many things, both good and bad. You’ve stirred a lot of emotions.

  7. r_hsw says:

    rain, in all its glory of melancholiness, always manages to stir our hearts and ignite a memory or two. the same goes with the windy moments in the fall season. somehow, these two, always bring me back to a world of forgotten memories and feelings.

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