Kavita From my mother I learnt how to winnow the puzzling words of Devanagari, how to stitch them and build a world of paradise. She speaks Hindi, language of dancing peacocks, marigold gardens. It sounds like tuning a Sitar. Time flies by, I’m stuck in a language trap in a foreign land, a thousand miles away from Taj Mahal. I stammer, I stay quiet, I restrict myself and fall behind. At the end of the tunnel I swept back to the beginning How my mother taught me the meaning of these words: ‘Himmat’, ‘Vishwas’, and ‘Vijay’ ‘Courage’, ‘trust’, and ‘victory’. Determined I wonder, Do we speak languages or do languages speak to us? That starry night I realize our emotions value language, I smile the moment I recite Kavita on the stage. I am wearing my mother’s saree, A carefully placed red dot on my head. Now, I can trust myself No longer am I afraid of speaking another language I trace my steps back to where my journey started and I can see my mother fetching water from the well. Her bangles rattle and her mind is lost staring into hollow darkness. She sits on her rocking chair with a cup of Chai, wrapped in her Pashmina shawl in the wooden cabin amidst the Kashmir valleys The Anjora rabbit hops, she waits and notices a younger reflection of herself paving the way. She runs, they meet and hug and write Kavita like good-old days.
Ruchi Acharya is a Business Analyst by profession. She is an Oxford University summer graduate in English Literature. She has been a contributor to multiple writing platforms such as The Pangolin Review, Overachiever magazine, Rigorous Magazine, Detester magazine, Loose Tooth Magazine, Rhodora, Borderless Journal, and Mulberry Literary review among 50 others. Currently, she lives in India with her two-year-old doe.