The
Coincidence Trilogy of Pastiches
COINCIDENCE
1
(
Cento- Pastiche )
If I
but thought that my response were made
To
one perhaps returning to the world,
This
tongue of flame would cease to flicker
But
to you, Eternal Wanderer, let me confess
This
: Admirer as I think I am
Of
stars that do not give a damn,
I
cannot, now I see them, say
I
missed one terribly all day.
Recalling
things that others have desired—
Are
these ideas right or wrong?
For
indeed it is the rarest coincidence
In a
life composed so much of odds and ends,
To
find a friend who has, and gives
Those
qualities upon which friendship lives.
Now
that is at least one definite false note
Though
I am prepared for all the things to be said,
Or
left unsaid
I
for one would never ever essay
What
I have heard hysterical people say
“ If
equal affection cannot be,
Let
the more loving one be me.”
Never,
from one end of the year to the other
From
April
When
by the whiteboard houses lilacs are in bloom
To
August
When
broken violins play in afternoons
To
October
And
bowls of peaches lie on polished tables
Waiting
For
December
And
the midwinter Spring
Of
January
Sempiternal
though sodden towards sundown
With
snow like cherry blossom on dark boughs
And
the coincidence of not a single leaf
But
skies of cloudless blue and brilliant sunshine
Doomed
to melt
In
March
That
comes in roaring
Much
as a raving autumn shears
Blossom
from the summer's wreath;
Beauty
is condemned to death.
For
loyalty is very nice
But
I’m not made for sacrifice.
And
youth is cruel, and has no remorse
And
smiles at situations it cannot see
I’m
older now, have many a recourse,
But
I smile, of course,
And
go on drinking tea.
Dear
shadows, now you know it all,
All
the folly of a fight
With
a common wrong or right.
The
innocent and the beautiful
Have
no enemy but time
(
Coalescing Elioit Yeats
Auden
to create this rhyme
All
over a cup of tea
Pastiche
or Tapestry
Or
plain Patchwork, like a quilt
Free
of worry, free of guilt )
For
it is the thought that counts
And
that by coincidence
Suits
my purpose and recounts
What
for me takes precedence
Self
love alone gives me strength
To
hold off chaos at arm’s length
About
suffering they were never wrong,
The
old Masters.
COINCIDENCE
2
(
Allusion - Pastiche )
Is
it , then, just a coincidence thing :
My
buried life, and Paris in the Spring?
To
have a bowl of lilacs in the room,
The
smell of hyacinths coming into bloom :
Does
it mean to you what it means to me
To
be sitting with you and drinking tea ?
No,
no, my friend, you do not know
What
life is , you who let it flow —
For
you are still young, and spreading your wings:
You
still have to learn a great many things.
And
yet— was I wrong when I thought you and I
Could
have become better friends by and by ?
Our
love for Chopin, your summer residence
This
year in the North, was it coincidence ?
She
says this, and I listen, and I leave:
Is
that Polonius plucking at my sleeve?
COINCIDENCE
3
(
Imitation : Pastiche )
I
shall arise and go now, and go where I feel free,
A
place for happy coincidence made,
A
place to experience serendipity,
Where
I once lived and worked and daily prayed.
I
know I shall have peace there, for peace comes sweet and slow,
Dripping
like honey from the thought- bees’ wings,
Lending
to mind’s landscape a golden glow,
While
in contentment softly the soul sings.
I
shall arise and go now, journey one night one day,
And
arrive home upon the Satluj shore,
Whose
waves I always hear lapping away,
Within
my being, and stay there evermore.
Amita
Sarjit Ahluwalia is one of the various pen names used by Punjab-born,
Patna-based retired Indian bureaucrat Amita Paul , for her original writings in
different genres, in English, Urdu, Hindi and Punjabi, featured in various
anthologies, journals, and online poetry writing forums. She was awarded the
NISSIM International Poetry Award for 2019 for her contribution to English
Poetry, and the Reuel International Prize for 2020 for Non-Fiction for her
Experimental Prose plus Multi-Media Anthology, ‘The Saaqi Chronicles’. Destiny
Poets, an International Community of Poets based out of Wakefield, in West
Yorkshire, UK declared her Poet of the Year 2020, and also Critic of the Year
2020, and further chose one of her poems as a Highly Commended Poem for the
Year 2020 on their website. The same three distinctions were conferred upon her
for the second time consecutively in the Year 2021, an unprecedented
coincidence. Her poetry is regularly featured in the e-magazine GloMag and it’s
biannual anthologies published from Chennai in India, while her prose work in
Hindi has found pride of place in Doaba, a prestigious literary journal
published from Patna, Bihar, India.
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