Poetry is like breathing to me, an integral part of my daily life. As a second-generation Indian immigrant, it has been a way to explore and showcase my cultural roots and individual identity, among other things.

I started writing poetry at the age of eight, as part of a school assignment, where we were individually asked to write about the season of spring. I learned that day that poetry was like a window, where each time you looked out, the view was different. To me, this represented a diversity of another kind, and I was hooked. As I moved from the UK, to the United States and then India, poetry followed me like a faithful friend, always at my side when I needed comfort, strength, or a space to vent. Four decades have passed and poetry is still my steady companion, my lens through which I see the world.

Writing poetry is often a solitary, meditative experience, which can be cathartic and healing for both the writer and reader. You sit with a thought or emotion, and slowly it reveals different aspects. As we were all sheltering in place—and as issues of race, equality, and justice are brought to the forefront—I would tell friends and family that I’m sheltering in poetry, as well as speaking out through it.

 

 

What other art allows you entry into a different world within a few lines? What other genre allows you to communicate in the same manner as a billboard or a tweet? When everything seems uncertain, one can write a few lines and offer hope. Or voice our angst over what we think is unfair or unjust. Maybe some of you will take a chance on poetry and see what it has to offer, how it can help one grow and heal. I offer you a poem on this year’s spring, hoping it might help us all get through this unprecedented time.

THAT SPRING WHEN THE WORLD CHANGED

Dear World,

How has your spring been—

The smog has settled now and the Himalayas can be seen
from the rooftops of Jalandhar, their peaks shining silver
And the flamingos are back, too, all pink and boisterous
dotting the wetlands of Mumbai like feathery lotuses

How has your spring been—

I’ve baked twelve loaves of bread, written fourteen poems
and watched twenty movies sheltering in place
I’ll trade you a sourdough loaf for two rolls of toilet paper
is something I thought I’d never say

How has your spring been—

Who knew online Karaoke would be so much fun
yes, I’m free for a virtual cocktail party, but do I need to dress up?
We’re out of bread and apples. Mask on, hand sanitizer in my pocket
we lock eyes at the store with strangers, wondering, do I know them?

 

 

How has your spring been—

Zoom baraabar zoom with family across time zones
sporting new beards, un-dyed hair, bad haircuts
And we’re grateful for healthy lungs, a full fridge, a roof
COVID-19 cases go up, as do prayers, meanwhile, jobs shrink

How has your spring been—

Masked heroes no longer in comics, but doctors, nurses, public servants
locked within our homes, we watch, as they fight invisible demons
As flowers conspire a color riot: roses, marigolds, tulips bloom
oblivious of those no longer with us, those taken away too soon

— Shikha Malaviya

Shikha Malaviya is a South Asian poet, writer and publisher. She is co-founder of The (Great) Indian Poetry Collective, a mentorship model press. Shikha is a Pushcart Prize nominee and TEDx speaker, where she gave a talk on poetry in 2013. She was selected as Poet Laureate of San Ramon, California in 2016, and she is also a four-time AWP poetry mentor and the 2020 poetry judge for AWP’s Kurt Brown Prize. Currently, she is a Mosaic Silicon Valley Fellow, committed to cultural diversity and artistic excellence in the San Francisco Bay Area. For more of her writings, you can purchase her book Geography of Tongues and read selected poems on her website.