Hosts: Akila G. and Shalini Pattabiraman
23rd June, 2022
This month we'll be showcasing haibun written by Sonam Chhoki.
Sonam Chhoki was interviewed by Vidya Venkataramani. It is a three part series and you can read all about her haikai journey, inspirations, thoughts and favourites. The link to the interview is given below:
https://cafehaiku.wordpress.com/2021/07/18/ch-interview-lighting-butter-lamps/
For this week's writing prompt, we bring Sonam Chhoki's haibun that appeared in David' Lanoue's "Issa anniversary thread."
And yet ...
you hold my hand and smile – old photograph
It's May again. I no longer ask why. That moment you slipped away without a murmur returns each first light and with the last trace of sun on the ridge. Early monsoon rain drips off the pane. My lament of words not said, moments lost in small talk and thoughts I dared not express, drowns in the monks' chant and their chorus of thighbone trumpets and longhorn.
Relatives, old and young, squeeze my hand and whisper. Tears shackle, obscure the path to the bardo, stop the dead from seeking new rebirth. I nod
and yet ... in the full moon your empty bed
Loss. Longing.
These are words we, as writers, have read and written many, many times. But the pieces that stand out for us, in terms of craft, are those that rope us in without a mention of that word. Right from the title to the last one, the sense of loss is there on the page without an explicit mention. This haibun is one such beautiful piece where the loss lingers long after you close the page.
We invite you to explore this emotion in this piece as a craft. The use of the words ‘And yet’ that sets the piece in motion as a title and renders depth to the narrative by appearing again in the haiku; all this without mentioning the word loss.
Our first drafts are emotions and when we are ready to edit them, that process is the craft. The space between writing and editing is the time we take to recover and face it. That is the toughest thing to do for a writer, to hone it a piece born out of a catharsis.
This week we would like you to re-visit an old piece where you have poured out and now perhaps, you have found the space and peace to read it and visit it as a piece of craft. You may want to edit it in the background of this haibun, look for two or three such words which will capture the essence and layer your narrative. Maybe you could just share a line or two about your experience doing it. You could also write a fresh piece and re-visit it during the week.
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. When poets give suggestions and if you agree to them - post your final edited version on top of your original version.
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 the haikuKATHA monthly journal.
Off-prompt:
ANOTHER LAYER
In the semi-darkness, she comes to my bed and wraps me with her blanket. I pretend I am asleep.She adjusts the air-conditioner and silently leaves the room. I lie in these moments between sleep and wakefulness, between night and day, soaking in the scents and warmth of her blanket, until the aroma of filter coffee hits my nostrils.
a whistling thrush's call-
just another day
with mother
feedback is welcome
Thanks for sharing Sonam's haibun Shalini and Akila . This is a masterpiece. Liked your commentary too
Puberty
It is beyond midnight, A soft blue hue outside the window holds a sickle moon.
I turn on the radio and am immediately transported to a war zone.
The reporter speaks!
Sanitised words emit from the radio.
I attempt to think of the life this sexless being may have had. What it was that may have triggered the pre configured nightmare that was about to unfold on so many.
child’s bedroom…
I attempt to repair
the broken toy
Revised: Thank you, Vidsvenky!
The Hole
Flashdance plays in the tape deck. We drive without speaking, each nodding our head to the beat of the music. These are my favourite moments with you. Just the two of us, lost in thought, enjoying the open road and each other’s company.
diagnosis
the doctor avoids
eye contact
Original:
The Hole
Flashdance plays in the tape deck. We drive without speaking, each nodding our head to the beat of the music. These are my favourite moments with you. Just the two of us, lost in thought, enjoying the open road and each other’s company. As always, the destination doesn’t matter, it’s the journey.
diagnosis
the doctor avoids
eye contact
Feedback is always appreciated!
revised : yet again, thanks Shalini but please check the haiku posted here. (5-7-2022)
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Nostalgia
It seems like yesterday I was holding the long branches of the asopalav tree with one hand and in the other hand I had carried ribbons of different colours to tie up the swaying branches. I remember my nervousness when the gardener announced his plans to cut the tree. My friends and I had actively painted different trees and added our names to our little campaign to 'grow more trees', but by the time we met, the trees had long been cut to size.
eagles flapping over their new nest a newborn
***
Original with versions
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Nostalgia
A strange feeling to think a…