No Flying Objects

 

Tranquil Arabian Gulf and sky from a vastly different time.
Amwaj, Bahrain, 2019.

The warplanes didn’t fly today, no drones,

no sirens nor alerts every now and then,

and there were no frantic calls on the phones

so I came out to the park to walk alone

if some peace could be plucked from a war season.

 

It was emptier, the grass had withered and wore

a fine mesh of soot and ashes, motes of death

blown in by the winds from a stricken shore –

trophy targets had been bombed the day before,

there was no spring anywhere, not a breath.

 

Some old trees had been damaged by the fallout

I too am changed – lopped and bent by strange degrees

too complicated right now to figure out,

there’s no peace though the sky’s clear and I doubt

for those who witness war there’s ever a peace.

 

Those trees are severe wounds that might perhaps mend

and the grass might claw back again, and birdsong

might fill the park at dawn and dusk in the end

as if all this ruin had never happened,

but that will take lifetimes. And roots that are strong.

The war is on my mind still, it's too close to be otherwise. I sit with the intent of focussing on something else, write something else but somehow all my thoughts loop back to it. The first line here floated up on my feed and became the prompt for the above. 

Meanwhile, some friends have got back to their respective homelands to relative safety, thankfully. But there are others talking about the hardships of being in a war zone, the difficulties of living life in uncertainties. The crash bang thud thumps of the missiles or interceptors and falling debris. The deserted streets and souqs and malls, the huge financial losses being incurred daily by ordinary people unable to ply their regular livelihoods. Schools and universities going into online education mode. Can't imagine the panic and stress the war must be causing exam year students and their families, their exams start early May. How does a 16 year old concentrate amidst missile strikes? My feed has images of smoke rising from buildings, road closures, screenshots of SM posts on tips for conflict zone survival, dos and don'ts for civilians- all super scary and agonising. 

Meanwhile, the effects of war have reached us too in India, prices are up, morale is down. There's a LPG cylinder (cooking gas) crisis - we managed to eke out ours somehow till the refill arrived. Was looking at induction cookers as a back up, but there's a total stockout, not one available for love or money. I'm getting the heebie-jeebies because Hormuz isn't just the import route for LPG alone, it carries fertilisers, helium and many other crucial industrial inputs. If this continues it's going to affect farm production to MRI imaging in hospitals. Shudder. 

Our travel arrangements are still on, so glad that we didn't book our usual route through the ME, which is really the default setting for us, having lived there for so long. I am going to be away from couch and computer till the first week of April. Some of my A-Z posts I've managed to schedule, the rest will have to be pantzed  after I'm back. Fingers firmly crossed the war will be over by then and we all will survive/surmount our individual challenges, alphabetical and otherwise. 

Braiding hair

 

When this war’s over, when the birds come back to sing,

I’ll draw you close again in the velvet evening,

I’ll sit you down in front of me, part straight your hair,

braid in strings of jasmines, breathe in the perfumed air.

 

The sulphur smells of anguish and mushrooming smoke

from the rigs and pits and lives of shattered folk,

rows of half size coffins, waiting by half size graves,

rise and ebb as the tides, advance, recede in waves.

 

When the war’s over and the nightingales are back

to replace the sirens and the endless air attacks,

in the inner courtyard dusks will gather and still

you and I’ll sit together in the sea-blue chill.

 

The sky’s a long range missile, Earth’s a long dispute

and all metals forged and sharpened to point and shoot,

all ships are sunken wrecks not one to the rescue,

the tides – all they do is crash over me and you.

 

When it’s finished and the earth’s taken back all things

and made them whole again – the hills and squares and springs,

I’ll take out your grandmother’s comb and run it slow

like a prayer through your hair as the sunset glows.

 

 

The sky’s a dragon’s breath, the town’s potential rubble,

a few men in uniform march out on the double,

the grass is scorched black, the trees stripped of foliage.

Our eyes tire of alerts, our nerves are taut, on edge.

 

When it’s over – they say both the good and bad must pass,

I’ll sit and watch you run again on new spring-grown grass,

shirt untucked at your waist, hair loosened from your braid,

your face lit with laughter, your footsteps unafraid.

I guess its quite obvious where that's come from. It goes on for a few more stanzas, but I will spare you, it's long enough as it is  :)

I've been a bit stressed - there are friends stuck in the ME who are waiting to be repatriated and even more bad news - some friends who can't be airlifted anywhere because that's their only home. All bad things must also pass, but it doesn't look like the Iran war is ending very soon. Bahrain in particular is super vulnerable because it's very close to Iran and because of the presence of the fifth fleet. The locality in Bahrain where my husband worked has been attacked, 30 plus people injured, some quite seriously. Not personally known to me, yet it all feels terribly close and personal. Every morning I wake up hoping it's been called off but no, it's still on. Every day brings more distressing news, the ambit getting wider.  Les misérables all round. 

I was/am also planning to do the upcoming A-Z Challenge and this is my advance warning post for that. I'd originally thought I'd do the theme reveal with this, but that feels entirely inappropriate given my general unprepared and somewhat frazzled state. I'm booked to travel during the Easter break too, which of course is looking fraught with uncertainty by the bucketful right now. Travel times also coincide with the Challenge key dates, apart from coinciding with the #$%*&^ war I mean. So...though I intend to write themed posts, I am keeping things fluid for the  present. I'll see what I can do and how...I'm going to be there is all I'm saying as of now. 

I hope your near and dear ones are all safe and well and nowhere within range of any missiles.