Posted on by Sonia Dogra

Out of the Shadow

Dear Reader

I bought potted parsley almost fifteen days ago. The man at the nursery told me it won’t last long. But I didn’t use it, not until this morning.

Last night I felt the tremors, partially. It was only when my daughter banged on the door that I noticed the fan swinging. It was a strong earthquake because the chandelier swayed for longer than a few seconds. Outside, people gathered in large numbers. I watched the scene from my balcony on the tenth-floor. Much that I would have preferred to rush out, I wasn’t sure if it made sense to run all the way down.

Anyway, it was over soon, but I couldn’t sleep for long after that. My mind kept wandering to all weird possibilities in such a scenario. I thought of the half-finished book on the night-stand and of my children sleeping in the next room. My mind meandered to the clothes I was wearing and how I will have to be quick enough to grab the mobile, if not the laptop in case the grounds shake again. I promised to mail the folder of all half-finished stories and poems to myself, first thing in the morning.

I’m being honest. I thought of the strangest things that don’t even count when you know you are dying. I thought of my life in the hills, many years ago, of the spring this year that must have turned its skies blue and of the people there who will not know for long if I’m gone. They may not even care. I also thought of the parsley.

My husband, on the other hand, went back to sleep once the commotion was over. He has a way of giving in to fate or destiny, of leaving the past behind, of believing that no amount of worry can make things better. Worse, yes. I corelate his philosophy to Joe Hammond’s thoughts on calmness. He writes, to stay calm is a good survival technique.

And so, last night I kept alternating between the husband’s conviction and mine. As individuals, we are always divided between two extremities. Perhaps, somewhere in the middle of all this, I went off to sleep. When I woke up, Delhi rains had turned everything fresh and new.

My first instinct was to prepare some potato salad with lots of parsley in it. Next, I sat down to finish the book! My husband went about his business, as usual.

We both chose our own distinct ways to step out of last night’s shadow.

I’ve been reading Louise Gluck, a poem a day, and here are a few lines from Sunshine (A Village Life) that feel so relatable after all the thoughts on the earthquake.

And if you missed a day, there was always the next,

and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter,

the hills weren’t going anywhere,

the thyme and rosemary kept coming back,

the sun kept rising, the bushes kept bearing fruit—

The streetlight’s off: that’s dawn here.

It’s on: that’s twilight.

Either way, no one looks up. Everyone just pushes ahead,

and the smell of the past is everywhere,

the thyme and rosemary rubbing against your clothes,

the smell of too many illusions—

I went back but I didn’t stay.  

Everyone I cared about was gone,

some dead, some disappeared into one of those places that don’t exist,

the ones we dreamed about because we saw them from the top of the hills—

I had to see if the fields were still shining,

the sun telling the same lies about how beautiful the world is

when all you need to know of a place is, do people live there.

If they do, you know everything.

In other things, here are a few books I read over the last month.

 A Short History of Falling by Joe Hammond– A beautiful account of the author’s decline from motor neuron disease, the memoir is enlightening, intense and humorous at the same time.

Kamayani Vashisht’s Recipe for Ladyfinger Pickle with its bold feminist strokes is definitely top of my list.

I also reread Kamala Das’ My Story which I love for its simple and honest narration, something I aspire to emulate.

Koral Dasgupta’s Ahalya (mythology) is a short and lyrical retelling of Ahalya’s story.

I took time to enjoy Whereabouts which is written and translated by Jhumpa Lahiri. By the end of it I decided to read it all over again!

I also listened to a collection of poetry on Audible. Titled Listening to Poetry-1 it failed to create magic for me. Though the poems were familiar (Robert Frost, Sarojini Naidu, Shelley, Shakespeare, Plath), it felt like I was doing school all over again!

Ruskin Bond’s How to be a Writer didn’t work for me. Not at all!

Finally, Kristin Hannah’s The Four Winds is what I enjoyed immensely.

What’s new on your reading list? I would love some good recommendations.

Has a natural phenomenon ever left you with thoughts hard to push away? Or are you the composed one?

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13 Replies to “Out of the Shadow”

  1. Probably I too would have not been able to sleep post the tremors, and I’m sure my husband would have slept right after. Is it difference from Mars and Venus ?

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  2. Probably I too would have not been able to sleep after the tremors, and may be my husband would have slept back. Is it the difference from Mars and Venus ?

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  3. Thanks for the recommendations.
    My husband slept through a quake, on a train, in Italy. I didn’t.
    Here – in a part of the UK which will have a new name on Saturday, *there is a pit in my back yard, three and a half metres deep.
    By order, .gov.uk, our water supply is insufficient . Builders were supposed to be finding a better supply, dig a hole – and went away.
    Has rained almost non stop since·..
    This week, I have been reading a reissued book about the territories of hunter gatherers and the impact of enforced change, -education, language, religion, Hugh Brody, the other side of Eden, and two very different re-reads – Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, Gail Honeyman, and Frost in May, Antonia White.
    i decided to stop reading Anxiety for Beginners… Maybe when we have water and no huge hole…/
    * Westmorland.

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    1. Hi! Thank you for stopping by. I hope the water issue is resolved soon. I like your eclectic choice of books. I’ve read Eleanor Oliphant but I’m intrigued by the sound of Frost in May. Thank you for adding them.

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  4. Oh God, this is so relatable. I think like that. I kept looking at the fan; it was more than a minute, I think.

    And it’s a beautiful poem, and I really need to write something for my blog.

    Wow, so many books. Loved Ahalya. For me, it had been a bad reading phase ―I didn’t like anything I attempted to read so ended up leaving so many books unfinished. Finally, read ‘My Unlawful Wedded Husband’ (a short story collection) by Madhulika Liddle and really liked it. Now reading ‘Just a Regular Boy’ by Catherine Ryan Hyde. I really like her writing/storytelling. It just clicks.

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  5. Where I live, we don’t get much in the way of extreme natural phenomena, except for blizzards. These days, I’m much more afraid of what what people are doing.

    As far as reading, I have a poetry chapbook cued up to read next: Our Wolves by Luanne Castle (based on the Little Red Riding Hood story). I’ve read some of the individual poems that got included, so I know I’m in for a nuanced and insightful read.

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    1. Of course, Liz. What’s happening around us is scary. But nature intimidates me. A chapbook based on the Red Riding Hood story sounds interesting. I will look forward to reading more on this from you.

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  6. It must have been scary . I’ve experienced three instances of tremors in my life and I can only remember that each time I was petrified. Literally . I couldn’t move . I couldn’t even think .
    I don’t read as much as I would like but recently I’ve read ‘ where the crawdads sing ‘ , ‘ the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo,’ and currently I’m reading ‘Bloomsbury 35’ .

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  7. Tremors, Sonia? I can relate. We get those things often here and for sure one never gets used to them. We are told to be prepared, and we are except that really, we cannot always have all valuables in one place.
    By valuables I mean, the laptop with the tons of words saved, and devices, their chargers, provisions, emergency kits and portable things, and by golly all the books on the shelves… for sure I cannot keep all those things by the door ready to hoist over my shoulders and instantly walk out the door.
    We are prepared mentally. I am.
    And when the big one comes I am ready to turn my back on everything. I’ll walk out the door with my phone only. And only because I know husband will try to get in touch. I have to grant him that.
    I do hope the big one never comes. Not for me not for you. Ever. Amen.
    You read a lot. Wow. The poem you shared is breathtakingly lovely. Wow. Thanks.
    Me: reading/listening to Yuval Harari’s 21 Lessons, And rereading The Shadow of the Wind— Carlos Ruiz Zafón and a few Haiku books from Library.
    So loved this post. Thanks for sharing. Xoxo

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    1. Hello Selma! Thank you for sharing your experience. Yes, may the big one never come..it’s brave of you to be mentally strong and ready.
      I am glad you liked the poem. Thank you for adding your list of books. I am going to note both.

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