The UnSaid: Listen to the Silence

 

Dear friends, I am glad to announce that the ebook version of my first chapbook ‘The UnSaid’ is available on Amazon.com for preorder now. The paperback will be available on Nov. 7, 2018. I hope that you like the work.

Thanks.

Sahar Raman Deep.

 

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Innocence Lost

On the other side of the shore

Eyes await for the lonely child

Who Got lost among walls

Of mine and thine

Innocence is compromised

Sickness is invited

And tenderness wipes it’s nose with sleeve

When borders are built

On land

Or

on paper

…Sahar Raman Deep

A Letter to My Love

Some people are more important than stardom or money; so are you. You are not only a person, but my relationship with myself. You are a song that my soul sings. You are the light in which my being seeks to understand Love. You are a you who has made love myself.

A thought: what if you are not real? You may not be real, but the love between us, at this moment in space and time, is more than real than any real can be. It is extraordinary! A moment lived in this living moment is more true than any number of years, centuries or lives lived in a common ‘love’ of give and take, of trust and doubt, of me and you.

Among us, there is no me and you. Among us, it’s a world of stars. Among us, there is unlimited expansion not to be limited by any binaries. Among us, there is only ‘us’; and ‘us’ is of oneness, of non duality, away from the world divided into dimensions.

Sahar Raman Deep.

5/21/17

Mother's Day

On Mother’s Day, I want to write a story……. a story of a mother, and a daughter… a daughter who died, and the mother lived on!

It was a fateful day, that the little one became an embryo. Her father left for distant lands. He had to come back, but never see her. She wanted to say, as her mother felt, “please do not go.” But he had to leave. So he did.

Mom was alone, with a strange set of people around her; but the daughter was her own.

Time passed, and the two started to talk in strange ways. The mom was excited at the fetus’ first kick, and jumped in excitement to tell her mom. Since then, the baby moved in mom’s belly when ever she said… I Love You my child. It was a strange communion only gods could understand and only mothers could feel.

The baby loved music, so the mom listened, and the baby listened because mom loved. It danced in the belly to the subtle tunes and chanted ‘Aham Braham Asmi’ with mom.

Soon, the day came when it was supposed to be the baby’s birthday. But, It turned out to be her death day! Luckily, or unluckily, the mom survived. She continued to celebrate Mothers’ Day with her own mom, often thinking of her own little, unnamed daughter.

But today, she cries, again on mothers’ day, when her mom is far away, reminded of her lost treasure… her daughter, whom she never saw.

When I think hard, that mom turns out to be me, and the little dead baby, my own!
….. Sahar Raman Deep.

#SaharRamanDeep

Mother’s Day

On Mother’s Day, I want to write a story……. a story of a mother, and a daughter… a daughter who died, and the mother lived on!

It was a fateful day, that the little one became an embryo. Her father left for distant lands. He had to come back, but never see her. She wanted to say, as her mother felt, “please do not go.” But he had to leave. So he did.

Mom was alone, with a strange set of people around her; but the daughter was her own.

Time passed, and the two started to talk in strange ways. The mom was excited at the fetus’ first kick, and jumped in excitement to tell her mom. Since then, the baby moved in mom’s belly when ever she said… I Love You my child. It was a strange communion only gods could understand and only mothers could feel.

The baby loved music, so the mom listened, and the baby listened because mom loved. It danced in the belly to the subtle tunes and chanted ‘Aham Braham Asmi’ with mom.

Soon, the day came when it was supposed to be the baby’s birthday. But, It turned out to be her death day! Luckily, or unluckily, the mom survived. She continued to celebrate Mothers’ Day with her own mom, often thinking of her own little, unnamed daughter.

But today, she cries, again on mothers’ day, when her mom is far away, reminded of her lost treasure… her daughter, whom she never saw.

When I think hard, that mom turns out to be me, and the little dead baby, my own!
….. Sahar Raman Deep.

#SaharRamanDeep

Generations!

Good were the days
When grandma cooked
And all the children
Sat around her-….

Good were the days
When grandma cooked
And all the children
Sat around her-
Crossed legged, and silent.
The roti took time to bake,
And, we fought for it!
So granny set the turns,
And we would eat
Slowly from our bowls
With small bites of bread
So as not to be done
Before the next chapati came!
Finish we eating,
And off we went
To swim in poodles!

Good were the days
When mom cooked
And we sat on table
With father on the big chair
And ate rice,
And home cooked noodles-
Laughing at small jokes,
And went to bed
With affectionate kisses;
Read a book
And dreamt of morning!

Now my children,
With their heads buried in phones
Wait for food
Ordered online
To fill their bellies!

I sit alone
With my husband
Sipping some soup,
Silent and gloomy.
And I wonder,
When my daughter shall cook….

…… Sahar Raman Deep
1/14/17

In Rawness of Emotions…

In rawness of emotions
In rawness of thought
In rawness of heart
When no seed is bown
I think of humanity
How it has grown!… Read More

In rawness of emotions
In rawness of thought
In rawness of heart
When no seed is sown
I think of humanity
How it has grown!

Humanity meant
Law of jungle in forest
And the only rule
Was to survive
Then came the tribes
And the societies
Where survival was safe
And the need was to thrive.
Being loyal to the group
And to the leader
Was the mandate
Even if it meant
Death to the tenant.

Some saints and sages
Have been talking since ages
Of the particular
And the universal
And saying
Both are one
And the key to this realization
Is freedom, and alas!
Freedom is none!

They say we are free.
Though unchained and unbound
We are bound by
None other than we.
This is the story
Of us humans
Separated from the nature
Who bore us
In her womb
And many others
Whom we have forgotten.

We wait for a the doom!

…. Sahar Raman Deep.
12/14/16

Pilgrimage

There is no pilgrimage holier than of self to Self. (Read more…)

On the way home
Back to my heart
Blisters are on feet
And mouth is desert

Back to my roots
After wandering in skies
Having lost all mine
I walk like a monk

Great pilgrimage is this
In the meadows
In the rain
To the alter of me
Standing still-

Since ages!

… Sahar Raman Deep.
11/14/16

Abortion

Is abortion a woman’s right over her body or a criminal act? What do you feel?

From nowhere
His gaze can observe
As she
In her uncomfortable nest
Watches over her little one

Like the moon
Like the stars
He can be seen
But not reached

His son
Who looks exactly like him
Seems to be asking
Where is my father?
And she has
No answer
What should she tell him?
That his coming to life
Was an accident
Which his father
So despised
And hated her
For carrying him?

Oh boy!
She loved him much
And could have done
Anything for him
And he was right
Nor he
Or she
Was ready, for the big change

How much
She suffered!
Without a family
Without her love.
And that tumor!
She could have died!

He had the freedom
So he left
She did not have
So she is struck
For life
In that brief moment of
Love long lost!

…. Sahar Raman Deep
10/27/16