Poetic Delicacies from Mauritius

by Aneeza Soobadar

Sometimes I pray for that little boy that was never mine
I smiled at him as he tugged at my long Indian skirt
In a desperate attempt to attract my attention, his arms glistening with slime
As he begged for a few coins, his shivering body oblivious of all hurt

I pray for that little boy with big dark eyes, so forlorn
Watching him milling around the market area
With its display of splashy items, leaving no spot unadorned
That his heavy heart so desires, his life an innocent inertia

I pray for that little boy, whose sight has become a comfort to my distant gaze
I give him what I give best, a kind smile
Oh yes, some food too, but words and more, to level him in his haze
As we feel each other, both thrown into some sort of exile

I pray for that little boy, whom I haven’t seen since a long time now
Earnestly hoping he is not in harm’s way
I have grown grooved to his presence, surprising myself somehow
I did not even ask for his name, he must surely be strolling some other alleyway

Sometimes I pray for that little boy that was never mine
I stopped going to that area, as I bled through the years
For things that ought to be, but never were, shimmering crystalline
It is strange how life throws people at you with whom you sync instantly, no demur

Yes, I pray for that little boy that was never mine
He is probably a young man now, as I try to picture him
As the fog is nestling itself deeper and deeper into my mind
For each day that unfolds, brings me some pieces of an answer that is still spinning

Sometimes, I pray for that little boy that was never mine
I am staring at a fish pond, its clear waters whispering to me
A sweet whisper that touches only those who are not blind
As my heart slowly releases the little boy, in an unmatched harmony

Aneeza Soobadar loves reading and writing poetry and short stories in both English and French since her teenage years. For her, writing is a way to connect to the essence of life and its people, as we navigate this increasingly digital world.

I sought the sparkles of butterflies
And received more than my eyes could handle

I sought the sounds of crashing waves
And nearly drowned in the din that was offered to me

I sought the magic of fireflies
And was made to experience the beauty of mysticism

I sought the thrills of love
And received a muse to sing odes and to write sonnets

I sought the warmth of life
And received cold wintery winds which caused me
To breathe in and out ecstatically

I sought out the refuge of my sacred garden
And received the embrace of my prince charming

Since then,
I have been seeking nothing else other than
The melting comfort that I have feel from him

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby. Her writings have been recognised at both national and international level.

by Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Poets thrive by being candles of light
They burn only for the pleasure
Of those who need their comfort and their warmth
Poets thrive to such an extent that
Existing without them
Seems to be as void as an empty echo!

Poets thrive by being gardeners
Caring solely to plant flowers
For the sake of rejoicing the gaze of the world
And wish to give a sense of purpose
To those who need it the most, as,
Whilst tending for the flowers
And by making of them
Exquisite pieces of art
Poets feel the shine of warm days upon their souls
As they radiate of same as well!

Poets live by being themselves, simply,
They just exist and the world gets pleased
So much that it hands over its womb
To have more poets birthing upon its soils
Thereby making of it
A literary delight
Capable of withstanding the attacks
Of negative forces
As boldly as mighty victorious Gods!

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry, short stories and novellas as hobby. Her writings have been recognised at both national and international level.

by Dovishka Muskaan Shaib

In this new era that we call evolution,

Ruled by desires and temptations,

Where greed is more than needs,

Illusion is seen to be remedy,

Pretending is being priority,

And dishonesty is personality,

Sharing and caring was meant to be preached,

But what happened,

Sharing and caring are now acts to be reached,

In this new era that we call evolution,

Where living is competition rather than,

Self-completion,

Where hope is premonitions,

And fears are questions,

Was it a tradition or just a decision,

Was it a mistake of the past,

Or a future that will last,

Will we see the rise,

Will we see the shine,

Or is it only lies and cries,

How long will we bear,

This unbearable feeling,

that we call fear,

How long will we hear,

That peace is given,

Only after mourning tears.

You have one life, be yourself, who knows that you being too much is the light of someone else.

Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Les jours qui passent à osciller entre des rêves
Des histoires qui se jouent dans l’attente de l’amour
Mon cœur bat la chamade
La promesse de l’autre monde se fait sentir

Armés d’amour, les étoiles scintillent en plein jour
Tandis que les papillons se créent des empires dans mon cœur
Les tambours sonnent aux rythmes du chamanisme
Et moi, perdue dans toute cette magie
Je ne peux que tisser une échelle
Dans le but d’atteindre le sol de la lune
Là où l’union d’amour se fera

La vie est certainement dure
Mais elle nous donne ce que nous méritons

La vie est organisée
Nos rythmes battent au rythme de ses couleurs
Et l’amour se peint de lui-même
Aussi facilement que les nuages ornent nos cieux

Quand l’existence elle-même est amour
Il devient un fait de tendre la main à celui
Que nous appellerons notre âme sœur
Celui qui nous tiendra la main dans le monde d’après

La poésie se peint en vagues et en écumes
Les chansons d’amour résonnent partout
Et la vie vibre avec le parfum des fleurs fraîches !

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby.

by Dovishka Muskaan Shaib

To my little friend,
With those four tiny paws,
Who win hearts in only one go,
You healed my wounds,
As if they were yours,
You adored me the most,
Despite all my flaws,
You made me yours,
Without desiring to know more,
You were my biggest support,
When times felt like shadows,
You are the most beautiful present that a deity could create,
You are that soulmate that humanity would claim,
But what brought you to such a fate,
Always begging for a full plate,
Always looking for a place to stay,
Always running away,
Always wagging that little tail,
To be spared, to feel safe,
You are the nicest being that a deity could create,
But why is it you,
That is being given so much pain,
Why is it only you,
Despite prayers being made,
Is still being called as ‘stray’

You have one life, be yourself, who knows that you being too much is the light of someone else.

by Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Ces airs de violon tristes jouent pour moi, du plus profond de mon cœur
Le moment où l’amour m’a déçu
Le moment où je suis devenue un jouet, le moment où je suis devenue une poupée malade
Pour être utilisée à volonté et jetée sans autre forme de procès.

Ces tristes airs de violon font couler mes larmes
Même si l’air de la nuit est doux et que les étoiles scintillent extatiquement
Heureux d’exister, même s’ils sont les seuls à être conscients de leur but

L’amour est un grand mot, lourd, parfumé et porteur d’un double sens
Il peut m’élever
Comme il peut me briser
Il peut me donner des ailes
Comme il peut m’enterrer au fond de son tombeau
Il peut me faire danser même si je ne sais pas comment faire
Comme il peut me faire tomber des plus hauts sommets s’il le souhaite

Perdue dans ma petite vague ondulante et désordonnée
J’élabore un poème à partager avec les airs de violon tristes
Pour que mon cœur trouve assez de volonté pour respirer
L’amour est un mot si puissant,
C’est quelque chose que je ne souhaite pas connaître
Surtout pas sur cette Terre déchue,
Qui reste trop dure pour mon cœur fragile !

Ces tristes airs de violon, comme des vagues scélérates
S’écrasent sur les fleurs de mon cœur
Alors que je suis transportée à une époque
Où l’amour, que je voulais glorifier
Me transformait en monstre nocturne, capable de
Fonctionner uniquement le jour
Tout en devant me cacher à la tombée de la nuit !

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby.

Cast away your chains
Attract the rays of sunshine.
Yester years obliterate,
Invite patience and simply bask in your refreshed spirit.

Never lose that sparkle in your eyes
Be resilient, work hard, strive hard towards
Your mindset, heartset, soulset,
In brief overall healthset.

Trust your instinct, invite positivity,
And not victimhood in your life,
Invite your greatness,
Say you can, you can.

Let endurance make you be the hero of your life,
Your life is yours to refine,
Though it takes time to make it shine.
Ultimately enjoy the fruits divine.

Nay, come what may, feel free spirited today,
Fly for it and make it stay.
Feel the little things of life,
And make your energy feel bigger through continuous strife.

Follow your passions,
Follow your intuition,
Enjoy a soul filled experience in total subservience,
Know yourself and eliminate all nescience.

©Pushmaotee Subrun

Pushmaotee Subrun studied in Delhi University, worked in Zimbabwe and Mauritius, and is currently an editor in the Ministry of Arts and Cultural Heritage. She is the author of: ‘Ella’, ‘Who is Your Best Friend?’, ‘Short Stories and Fables’, ‘A lyrical bouquet of Soulful Poems’ and ‘Dreams to Reality’. Very soon, her next anthology of Poetry will be published by Inkdew Publications. Her poems have featured in prestigious online magazines. She was selected by ‘Destiny Poets’ as Poet of the Year – ICOP Awards 2019. Her poems feature in several International Anthologies. Lately, she was honoured by Gujarat Sahitya Akademi. She was honoured with the prestigious title of Poet of the Year in 2022 by Inkdew Inkdew. She was among the most favourite 3 World Gogyoshi organized by the founder of world gogyoshi, Taro Aizu.

by

Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Home is in love’s arms
In his eyes, in his passion,
In his thoughts,
In the words that he enounces
In the feelings that he carries
In his human needs,
His pain, his suffering,
His need for warmth when it gets cold
On long winter days and nights

Home is in love’s music
That which is stuck in his head for hours on end
In the poetry that he wants to share
But which he hides from the world

Home is in love’s rivers
Riding which both he and I
Will reach the ocean’s depths;
Filled with magical creatures and rainbows
All dancing to the pulls of both of our desires

Home is in love’s heart, each time it skips a beat for me
Each time he is reminded that summers give way to winters
And each time the night wakes up to dawns
Each time duty calls on him to create new chapters
And each time the mysticism calls upon him
To hold me in his lap
As gently as he would hold a rare crystal

Home is love
And love is where my home is
Home is love
And love is where I yearn to be!

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby.