My Portrait
I look
above my glasses
perched
on the tip
of my nose
at my portrait
above my glasses
perched
on the tip
of my nose
at my portrait
I see
a figure not me
looking back at me
awestruck
asking me
is that you?
a figure not me
looking back at me
awestruck
asking me
is that you?
I question
my end and my beginning
the days and the nights
the life
that has made
all the difference
my end and my beginning
the days and the nights
the life
that has made
all the difference
I scribed
words
for I could not
but sing
the golden flowers
of thoughts
I sang
of pain
of joy
of urban jungles
of village girls
of the Kurukshetram of life
words
for I could not
but sing
the golden flowers
of thoughts
I sang
of pain
of joy
of urban jungles
of village girls
of the Kurukshetram of life
I wept
for the forests
for the old
for the shifting
sands of culture
for a grieving earth
for the forests
for the old
for the shifting
sands of culture
for a grieving earth
I played
with irony
tap tapping words
bursting laughter
painting caricatures
a mere thief a robber.
with irony
tap tapping words
bursting laughter
painting caricatures
a mere thief a robber.
I guided
many through
labyrinths of thought
enquiring minds
restless search
and research
I journeyed
many a town
and country
to leave my mark
to rest again
in my own Kavalam
many through
labyrinths of thought
enquiring minds
restless search
and research
I journeyed
many a town
and country
to leave my mark
to rest again
in my own Kavalam
I am you
you are me
reconstructing me
so let it be
so let the enigma prevail
I take my leave.
you are me
reconstructing me
so let it be
so let the enigma prevail
I take my leave.
—Jameela Begum