hosts: Kala Ramesh & Firdaus Parvez
mentor: Lorraine Haig
A Thursday Feature 14th November
Prakash Thombre Ink sketch
Ink sketch and write-up by Prakash Thombre, Pune.
Active Waiting
Fisherman 1: “How long do you think we’ll have to wait today?”
Fisherman 2: “Hard to say. Could be a while, could be soon. That’s how it goes.”
Fisherman 1 shifts slightly, looking out at the calm water. “I don’t like waiting much. Feels like nothing’s happening.”
Fisherman 2 gently smiles and keeps his eyes on the water. “It’s not about nothing happening. It’s about being ready for when something does. You can’t force a fish to bite, but you can stay ready for when it does.”
Fisherman 1 nods thoughtfully. “So, you’re saying the waiting’s not wasted if we’re prepared?”
Fisherman 2 glances at the horizon. “Exactly. Active waiting. It’s about staying present, paying attention. We’re not just sitting here—we’re watching, listening, ready to move when the moment’s right.”
They both fall quiet again, the sound of waves filling the space between them. The waiting, while still, is focused, each fisherman alert, not knowing when the opportunity will come, but prepared for it all the same.
In this way, active waiting becomes a balance of patience and readiness, where the time spent in anticipation is just as important as the action when it finally arrives.
Experimental illustration done with ink and watercolor.
Challenge:
Enjoy the ink sketch and watercolour by artist Prakash Thombre and then read what inspired him to write what he wrote.
Does this inspire you enough to write a haibun, on an imaginary conversation? Do you agree with Prakash's views on active waiting?
The Gita says: karmanyakarma yah pashyed akarmani cha karma yah
sa buddhiman manushyeshu sa yuktah kritsna-karma-krit
BG 4.18:
Those who see action in inaction and inaction in action are truly wise amongst humans. Although performing all kinds of actions, they are yogis and masters of all their actions.
Have a whale of a time, while you are at it!
Haibun outside this prompt can be written also :))
~~~~~~~~~~
PLEASE NOTE:
1. Only two haibun per poet per prompt.
2. Share your best-polished pieces.
3. Please do not post something in a hurry or something you have just written.
Let it simmer for a while.
4. Post your final edited version on top of your original verse.
5. Don't forget to give feedback on others' poems.
We are delighted to open the comment thread for you to share your unpublished haibun (within 300 words) to be considered for inclusion in haikuKATHA monthly journal.
Important: Since we're swamped with submissions, and our editors are only human, mistakes can happen. Please, please, remember to put your name, followed by your country, below each poem, even after revisions. It helps our editors; they won't have to type it in, saving them from potential typos. Thanks a ton!
A haibun:
Gaslighting
They want to rule over the whole of the kingdom. They just require pots of money.
One day, they catch a golden goose. It had quarreled with its flock and was walking alone. They decide to keep it till it lays its last golden egg. Then finish it off.
To flummox their fellow people, they build a big hall of mirrors. They equip it with double speaking sound-boxes too. The hall leads to a dark, bottomless pit.
People are enticed to the hall and pit, day and night. The goose keepers keep laughing.
supermoon
just another tale for us
to walk a mile more
#1 19/11/2024 Prompt -Prakash Thombre's Ink sketch
Hollow Tides
The sun is still trapped in the sea when they leave home. Their feet keep pace with the cyclonic speed of their talk while drooping bamboo flowers thicken the air and thoughts. Purse seine boats from the neighboring village, lights flaring extravagantly, scour the sea’s womb; the nets grow heavier, the sea lighter. While their small boats drift deeper into the sea, returning under an orange sky emptier than a conch. The summer stretches bleak ahead—the rains are sure to fail, and rats, swollen on bamboo seeds, are devouring what little crop remains. In the distance, the horizon whispers of hunger while the thin wind carries tales of want and loss.…
#2 20/11/24 (edited thank you Vidya)
Crowpass
I’ve been to Nepal,” says the crow perched on my balcony, preening its wings. I blink. “How?”
“Flight, obviously,” it scoffs. “No borders in the sky, you know.”
The morning sun glints off its feathers as it hops closer. “You humans complicate everything. Ever tried just being?”
I sip my chai, unsure whether to argue or listen. The crow tilts its head. “By the way, your neighbor’s cat is a spy. Keep your windows shut.”
laundry line
a swaying sari
hints at a lost nation
I stare as it takes off, leaving a single black feather. I hold it up to the light, half expecting it to whisper another secret. Instead, a pigeon…
Thanks, Lakshmi:
Edited.
The Pull
As I get older, my first preference is for the sea. I admire mountains from a distance but know I can no longer climb them. Growing up in Chennai, we went to the beach every Thursday, Father’s day off from his clinic. The memories draw me back.
Frothy waves rise on the horizon. Seagulls dot the evening sky. Vendors call out “manga, thenga, pattani, sundal" as they walk about, hawking roasted peanuts and green mangoes cut into thin oblong pieces sprinkled generously with salt and chilli powder. Wishing you a good day, the vendor scoops these mouth-watering delicacies onto a cut newspaper and hands them to you.
twilight hues the nonstop raga of crashing waves
This…
#1
All in a good cause
It’s raining here on Magnetic Island but that doesn’t daunt us. We’re gathered outside the pub. The owners parade their prized, overfed cane toads, gripping them under their forearms. They’re huge. There’s a lot of banter challenging us to pick a favorite.
“Put your money where your mouth is”.
Bets are taken. Each toad wears a different coloured hair band. A man places $400 on the blue. It’s slimmer than the rest. We watch as money slips through fingers. Eight competitors are corralled in the circle’s centre. The cage is lifted, but they sit there under the bright lights biding their time. Punters shout and clap. Three hops and the first one crosses the…