Dawning was a beautiful thing with a strong stem resembling the green sea. At the reversal was hope, growing atop a bed of moss. Every week on the 5th day rain would fall nurturing our seed. Humming a sweet soft melody, summoning its colors. Every 5th day, whenever the sprinkles started our roots would grow instantaneously. Wafting the memories of summer rainfall. Consistency, the lofty petals blooming with future, yet no direction. Rising with a lively brown and blue dye seducing all admirers. The loop presenting comfort. During the 3rd cycle the rain was sparse and barely showered. Hungering, we waited. Fuming with pride vowing to be magnificent. In the next cycle the blessing returned. After completion however our plant remained untouched, frozen in progress. On routine the rain returned a 5th time. The hum reduced to whisper, the droplets sliding off petals. Colors starting to fade. Desperation and distress creeping in. At the 6th run. Silence introduced itself, filling in the soil. Submerging the glow within me. Petals shrinking in remorse. On the 7th cycle I stood by and watched the rain fall as hard as it ever did. Melancholy hovering. Envy running through my dry roots. Wondering, when did I outgrow the rain?
The Mic Flashbacks of how the lights glared at me as my muscles fought for air brush past me. Waves of eyes and cheers disorienting me. Wait, how did I get here? I ponder for a moment before I’m brought back. “Neidy.” My body awakens. My limbs tingle with anticipation. “Do you need the mic?” I nod my head vertically as I step forward, my fingers slowly embracing the cold mechanical device. I suddenly remembered how I got here. 3 weeks prior Rosalia, a classmate approached me with a proposal. “Neidy let’s perform at the school multicultural festival this year!” We are 6th graders. I have never done a performance before. I have no talent. “No.” “Aww, please why not? This is our last year at this school.” She insisted. “I don’t have anything to show.” That is only part of my excuse. Truth is I’m not fully confident in my English speaking skills since I had just moved to Seattle a couple years ago.Who would want to see a performance from a Spanish accent heavy immigrant kid anyway? She smiles sinisterly. “If I find you, say a poem, to read in front of everyone, would you do it?” I stare at her. I give her a small smile and nod my head. Rosalia picked a short poem, thank God. I spent weeks practicing and memorizing that poem in a language I was still mastering. My first time on a platform like this, what if they don’t like me? Well it’s too late to back out now. My presence was seen however my voice was unheard. My voice and my body shake as I begin. “Hi, my name is Neidy Avila Ramirez, I am a 6th grader and I will be reading a poem called Central America in my heart, by Oscar Gonzales. On this voyage into the deep communion of solitude I’ve casually come to know. the old and withered costumes of the sea. I’ve walked carefully through the colors of copper. when the dusk has already conjured the last prayer of the day. Through seasonal doorways I’ve called upon the twilight ghosts arched in the corners of the narrow cobblestone streets. I’ve let my lips evade the necessary verses to find the ending phrase for the afternoon. I’ve disarmed the elusive equity of the night to conceive an intimate verse from its fortified mysteries. I’ve cast aside the grieving songs of my twilight as the sky envelops the enamored vestments of the night. I’ve done and undone so many things in search of you.” My heart is running from my chest. The air has left me again. I stare into the crowd upon my final words.They deflect my doubts as rolling mountains of admiration and cheer follow, causing me to cover my ears for protection. I slowly place the mic back on its original stand then struggle making my way down the steps. “You did great!” Rosalia cheers. “Thanks!” I respond breathlessly. “Would you do it again?” That’s a good question. My knees were locked the entire performance, and i think I stopped breathing a couple times, yet there was something so exhilarating and empowering to voice what I had spent weeks practicing. Who knew they’d react like that. Would I be crazy to chase that feeling again? I suppress the thought. I inhaled deeply. “Maybe.”
Where I am from
I am from juicy soft mangos and oil drenched plantains masking the air. Where remnants of past civilizations and African slaves linger. Where each ocean crash tells a secret. I’m from cold, wet rain and mountains, where the sky roars of anger. Where “opportunity” and reality clash. I am from burden, responsibility and accountability. With the lights burning my skin and the cameras forever rolling. I am from bundles of hardworking souls. “Fight for change or it’ll never happen”. Witnessing the molding of future generations. I am from twisted coily black thick hair. The kind to entrap its invaders. Defensive. I am from a place of knowledge, offering comfort and vast history. A hideout from the world.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN LANGUAGE AND CULTURE IN EFL LEARNING
Termiz davlat universiteti Xorijiy filologiya fakulteti Filologiya va tillarni o’qitish: ingliz tili ta’lim yo’nalishi talabasi Abdukarimova Qadriya
Annotatsiya
Ingliz tilini chet tili sifatida (EFL) o‘rganishda til va madaniyat o‘rtasidagi munosabat muhim ilmiy hamda amaliy ahamiyatga ega. Til nafaqat muloqot vositasi, balki xalqning qadriyatlari, dunyoqarashi, urf-odatlari va ijtimoiy tajribasini aks ettiruvchi madaniy hodisadir. Shu sababli EFL ta’limida madaniy kompetensiyani rivojlantirish o‘quvchilarning kommunikativ kompetensiyasini shakllantirishda muhim omil hisoblanadi. Ushbu maqolada til va madaniyatning o‘zaro bog‘liqligi, EFL ta’limida madaniyatning roli, madaniyatlararo kommunikativ kompetensiya hamda zamonaviy o‘qitish yondashuvlari tahlil qilinadi.
Kalit so‘zlar: EFL learning, language and culture, cultural competence, intercultural communication, communicative competence, language teaching, cultural awareness.
Abstract
The relationship between language and culture is one of the most significant aspects of English as a Foreign Language (EFL) learning. Language is not merely a means of communication; it is also a carrier of cultural values, beliefs, traditions, and social experiences. Therefore, understanding cultural aspects is essential for developing effective communicative competence in language learners. This article examines the interconnection between language and culture, the role of culture in EFL education, intercultural communicative competence, and modern approaches to integrating culture into language teaching. The study highlights the importance of cultural awareness in achieving successful language learning outcomes.
Keywords: EFL learning, language and culture, cultural competence, intercultural communication, communicative competence, language education, cultural awareness.
Аннотация
Взаимосвязь языка и культуры является одним из важнейших аспектов изучения английского языка как иностранного (EFL). Язык представляет собой не только средство общения, но и носитель культурных ценностей, убеждений, традиций и социального опыта народа. Поэтому понимание культурных аспектов играет важную роль в формировании коммуникативной компетенции учащихся. В данной статье рассматриваются взаимосвязь языка и культуры, роль культуры в обучении английскому языку, межкультурная коммуникативная компетенция и современные подходы к интеграции культуры в процесс обучения языку.
Ключевые слова: изучение английского языка как иностранного, язык и культура, культурная компетенция, межкультурная коммуникация, коммуникативная компетенция, языковое образование, культурная осведомленность.
In today’s globalized world, English has become an international language used in education, business, science, and intercultural communication. As a result, English language teaching has expanded significantly, particularly in countries where English is taught as a foreign language. However, language learning involves more than mastering grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation. Effective communication requires an understanding of the cultural context in which the language is used.
Language and culture are inseparable concepts. Every language reflects the history, values, customs, beliefs, and social norms of its speakers. Learners who study English without understanding its cultural background may face difficulties in interpreting meanings, idioms, humor, politeness strategies, and social behaviors. Therefore, cultural knowledge has become an essential component of EFL instruction.
The increasing importance of intercultural communication has encouraged educators to integrate cultural content into language teaching. This approach enables learners not only to develop linguistic proficiency but also to interact successfully with people from different cultural backgrounds.
Literature Review
The relationship between language and culture has been widely discussed in linguistic and educational research. Scholars such as Edward Sapir and Benjamin Lee Whorf argued that language influences the way people perceive and interpret the world. Their linguistic relativity hypothesis suggests that language and culture shape human thought and behavior.
Kramsch (1998) emphasized that language expresses, embodies, and symbolizes cultural reality. According to her, language learning should involve cultural understanding because communication is deeply rooted in social and cultural contexts. Similarly, Byram (1997) introduced the concept of intercultural communicative competence, which combines language skills with cultural awareness and the ability to interact effectively across cultures.
Recent studies indicate that integrating culture into EFL classrooms improves learners’ motivation, communicative competence, and critical thinking skills. Researchers have also highlighted the importance of exposing learners to authentic cultural materials such as literature, films, media content, and real-life communication situations.
Modern educational approaches stress the need to move beyond teaching facts about English-speaking countries and instead focus on developing intercultural understanding. This perspective encourages learners to compare cultures, recognize cultural differences, and respect cultural diversity.
Research Methodology
This study employs a qualitative and analytical research methodology. The research is based on the examination of scholarly books, journal articles, and theoretical studies related to language, culture, and EFL education.
Several methodological approaches are applied:
– Descriptive analysis to explain the relationship between language and culture.
– Comparative analysis to identify similarities and differences between cultural perspectives in language learning.
– Content analysis of relevant academic literature on intercultural communication and EFL teaching.
– Interpretive approach to evaluate the significance of cultural competence in language education.
The combination of these methods provides a comprehensive understanding of how cultural factors influence language learning and teaching processes.
Language as a Reflection of Culture
Language serves as a mirror of culture. Vocabulary, idioms, expressions, and communication styles often reflect the values and traditions of a society. For example, English contains numerous expressions related to individualism, personal achievement, and independence, which are significant values in many English-speaking societies.
Cultural influences can also be observed in forms of politeness, greetings, and social interactions. Understanding these cultural norms helps learners use language appropriately in different contexts. Without cultural knowledge, learners may produce grammatically correct sentences that nevertheless sound unnatural or inappropriate.
The Role of Culture in EFL Learning
Culture plays a crucial role in developing communicative competence. Learners who understand cultural contexts are better able to interpret meanings, avoid misunderstandings, and engage in effective communication.
Cultural integration in EFL classrooms offers several benefits:
1. Enhances communicative competence.
2. Increases learner motivation and engagement.
3. Promotes critical thinking and cultural awareness.
4. Reduces stereotypes and cultural misunderstandings.
5. Prepares learners for global communication.
Through exposure to cultural content, learners gain a deeper understanding of how language is used in authentic situations.
Intercultural Communicative Competence
One of the primary goals of modern language education is the development of intercultural communicative competence (ICC). ICC refers to the ability to communicate effectively and appropriately with individuals from different cultural backgrounds.
According to Byram’s model, intercultural competence includes:
– Cultural knowledge.
– Skills of interpretation and interaction.
– Attitudes of openness and curiosity.
– Critical cultural awareness.
These components enable learners to navigate cultural differences successfully and build meaningful international relationships.
Challenges in Integrating Culture into EFL Education
Despite its importance, incorporating culture into language teaching presents several challenges. Teachers may lack sufficient cultural resources or training. Textbooks sometimes provide limited or stereotypical representations of culture. Additionally, some educational systems prioritize grammar and examination performance over communicative and cultural competence.
To overcome these challenges, educators should utilize authentic materials, digital resources, international projects, and interactive classroom activities that encourage cultural exploration and discussion.
The relationship between language and culture is fundamental to successful EFL learning. Language cannot be fully understood or effectively used without considering its cultural dimensions. Cultural knowledge enhances communicative competence, promotes intercultural understanding, and prepares learners for participation in a globalized society.
Modern EFL education should therefore integrate cultural learning alongside linguistic instruction. By developing both language proficiency and cultural awareness, learners become more effective communicators and more competent global citizens. Future language teaching practices should continue to emphasize intercultural competence as a central objective of English language education.
References
1. Byram, M. (1997). Teaching and Assessing Intercultural Communicative Competence. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters.
2. Kramsch, C. (1998). Language and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
3. Sapir, E. (1921). Language: An Introduction to the Study of Speech. New York: Harcourt Brace.
4. Whorf, B. L. (1956). Language, Thought and Reality. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
5. Brown, H. D. (2007). Principles of Language Learning and Teaching. New York: Pearson Education.
6. Richards, J. C., & Rodgers, T. S. (2014). Approaches and Methods in Language Teaching. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
7. Hall, E. T. (1976). Beyond Culture. New York: Anchor Books.
8. Moran, P. R. (2001). Teaching Culture: Perspectives in Practice. Boston: Heinle & Heinle.
When one point aligns with another a line comes into being
But what is the origin of that point— the point that begins as one and gives birth to countless dimensions?
East, west, north, and south— embracing every direction, upon the canvas of a circle it draws hundreds of thousands of paths.
Gratitude to that Great Being who gifted us a single point— from which unfolds an infinite journey along boundless paths.
From Point to Line – II
Come, let us join our hands. Let us shine like the stars in the sky and light up the darkest of humble homes.
Let us come together as one beside some weary, fragile soul— a forgotten point deprived of food and clothing, worn down by the hardships of life.
A hundred thousand paths, millions upon millions of hands— yet their center may be a single point.
Hand in hand, eye to eye, come, let us lose our way together.
For perhaps, in losing the paths we know, we may finally find that long-sought destination— the address whose name is Love.
Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh
15 July 2026.
Md. Mahbubul Alam is from Bangladesh. His writer name is Mahbub John in Bangladesh. He is a Senior Teacher (English) of Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh. Chapainawabganj is a district town of Bangladesh. He is an MA in English Literature from Rajshahi College under National University. He has published three books of poems in Bangla. He writes mainly poems but other branches of literature such as prose, article, essay etc. also have been published in national and local newspapers, magazines, little magazines. He has achieved three times the Best Teacher Certificate and Crest in National Education Week in the District Wise Competition in Chapainawabganj District. He has gained many literary awards from home and abroad. His English writings have been published in Synchronized Chaos for seven years.
Once when he was in grade ten in 1990, his Bangla letter was selected as the best one from Deutsche Welle, Germany Radio that broadcast Bangla news for the Banglalee people. And he was given 50 Dutch Mark as his award. They would ask letters from the listeners to the news in Bangla and select one letter for the best one in every month.
From 17 to 30 September, in 2018 he received a higher training in teaching English language in Kasetsart University of Thailand for secondary level students through a government order from education ministry.
On 06 November 2015 he achieved Amjad Ali Mondal Medal for his contribution in education field by a development organization in the conference and felicitation function for the honorable personalities at Rajshahi College Auditorium.
On 30 December 2017 from West Bengal in India he was declared a ‘Literary Charioteer’ in Bangobandhu Literary and World Bango Conference and they awarded him with a Gold Medal in their International Literary Conference and Prize Giving Ceremony.
In 2018, he achieved Prodipto Lirerary Award in Prodipto Literary Conference at Kesorhat, Rajshahi for poems in Bangla literature. He received honorary crest from the administration of Chapainawabganj District Literary Conference and Cultural Function in 2021 and 2022 consecutively.
His poems have been published in many international online magazines such as Juntos Por las L Raven Cage Zine, and Area Felix. His poems have been translated and published in Argentine and Serbian, and he participated in many international online cultural meetings.
THE PROBLEM OF PLASTIC POLLUTION AND INNOVATIVE SOLUTIONS FOR ITS RESOLUTION
1. Introduction
Nowadays, one of the most serious global ecological problems is the sharp increase in plastic waste and its negative impact on the environment. The persistence of plastic products in nature for hundreds of years without degradation poses a serious threat to soil, water bodies, and living organisms. Therefore, managing plastic waste, recycling it efficiently, and creating environmentally friendly (biodegradable) alternative materials are among the most pressing tasks of modern science and technology. The purpose of this article is to comparatively analyze modern technologies for plastic recycling and eco-friendly alternatives to them, as well as to study their advantages and disadvantages.
2. Modern Methods of Plastic Recycling
To reduce plastic waste and protect nature, mainly two primary methods of recycling are used:
Mechanical recycling: This is the most common method, where plastic containers and packages are collected, washed, shredded into small pieces (turned into granules), and melted down again to manufacture new items. However, the disadvantage of this method is that plastic loses its quality every time it is recycled and cannot be used an infinite number of times.
Chemical recycling: This is a more modern method that breaks down plastic into its most basic components (chemical substances) using special chemical processes. As a result, plastic is restored to a condition just like new without losing its quality. This method helps recycle even contaminated or mixed plastics.
3. Eco-Friendly Alternatives to Plastic (Biodegradable Materials) Instead of merely recycling plastic waste, utilizing other eco-friendly materials that can replace them is also considered an important solution:
Bioplastics: These are materials derived not from ordinary petroleum products, but from plants (such as corn starch or sugarcane). Their biggest advantage is that when discarded into nature, they do not lie around for hundreds of years like ordinary plastic, but rather degrade on their own within a short period and blend into the soil.
Natural packaging materials: Using paper, wood fibers, or natural tools that decompose quickly in nature instead of single-use plastics in daily life also greatly helps preserve the environment.
4. Conclusion
In conclusion, to solve the problem of plastic waste, a single method alone is not sufficient. For this, on the one hand, it is necessary to strengthen the recycling of existing plastics through mechanical and chemical methods, while on the other hand, transitioning to eco-friendly alternatives such as bioplastics in production is of vital importance. These measures will serve to keep nature clean and maintain ecological balance in the future
On the outskirts of the city lay an old park, covered not with people, but with fallen leaves. The wind carried them gently from one place to another, as if each leaf were wandering in search of the place where it truly belonged. At the far end of the park stood an old wooden bench, worn smooth by the passing years. Every single day, an old man sat there. No one knew who he was. He was neither a beggar nor a merchant, nor did he look like an ordinary retiree. His clothes were always neat, his hair snow-white, and his eyes remained fixed on some distant point beyond the trees. Beside him rested the same old leather bag every day. People walked past him. No one paid him much attention. Except for one boy.
Ozod, an eight- or nine-year-old schoolboy, passed through the park every afternoon on his way home. For reasons he could not explain, he found himself drawn to the old man.
One day, he finally approached him.
“Sir, why do you come here every day?” The old man smiled.
“I’m waiting.”
“For whom?”
“Perhaps for someone… perhaps for the chance to be forgiven…”
The boy did not understand his answer. Even so, he began sitting beside him every day after school. Weeks passed. They did not talk much. Sometimes they would sit together for an entire hour without saying a single word. Silence, somehow, became their conversation.
Eventually, winter arrived. Snow began to cover the park. One afternoon, Ozod ran to the bench as usual. It was empty. Two days passed. Then three. A week. The old man never returned. Unable to bear his curiosity, Ozod asked the elderly groundskeeper who was sweeping the paths.
“Where is the old man who always sat here?” The groundskeeper let out a quiet sigh.
“He won’t be coming back, son.”
“Why?”
“His time came.”
The boy lowered his head. For reasons he could not explain, it felt as though something inside him had quietly broken.
“Who was he?” The old man gazed into the distance before answering.
“Twenty years ago, there was a terrible car accident right here in this park. A drunk driver struck a young family. The parents died instantly. Only their little daughter survived. The driver was imprisoned. When he was finally released, he searched everywhere for that little girl. He wanted to ask for forgiveness, but he never found her. So every day… he came back to this bench. Day after day, he held on to the hope that she would one day appear.”
“That she would look into his eyes and simply say…”
“I forgive you.”
“But she never came.”
Years passed. Ozod grew up. He graduated from university and began building his own life. Life, however, tested him in ways he had never expected. One evening, while returning from a business trip, he became involved in a traffic accident through a moment of carelessness. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured. But the owner of the other car stormed toward him in anger. Ozod apologized repeatedly. Nothing seemed to calm the man’s fury. Then, suddenly, the image of the snow-covered bench flashed before his eyes. The old man’s quiet voice echoed in his memory:
“Perhaps for someone… perhaps for the chance to be forgiven…”
Without another word, Ozod took out a piece of paper and wrote down his phone number. “I will pay for every bit of the damage,” he said quietly. “And even if you cannot forgive me today, I understand. But I hope that someday you’ll remember there was once a stranger who was truly sorry.”
The fury in the man’s eyes slowly melted away. Neither of them spoke again. Sometimes sincerity speaks louder than words ever can.
Many years later, on another autumn afternoon, Ozod returned to the same park, this time holding his grandson’s hand. The old wooden bench was still there. Only now, it stood empty. His grandson looked up at him.
“Grandpa… why are you staring at that bench?” Ozod smiled faintly.
“A person’s shadow disappears when the sun sets, but the shadow of their deeds remains in the lives of others forever.”
The child looked at him without understanding. Ozod turned his eyes toward the falling leaves. The wind lifted them gently into the air. This time, they no longer looked lost. They seemed to know exactly where they belonged. And for the first time in many years, the empty bench no longer looked lonely.
My name is Kozimjonova Saidaxon Alisher qizi. I was born on November 27, 2007, in Asaka District, Andijan Region, Uzbekistan. I am currently a third-year student majoring in Economics at the Faculty of Economics and Management, Andijan State Technical Institute.
From an early age, I have been passionate about numbers, analytical thinking, and economics. To me, economics is more than just an academic discipline—it is a vital field that helps us understand the development of society and improve people’s lives. For this reason, conducting research and pursuing lifelong learning have become an integral part of my life.
To date, I have published more than 30 scientific articles in national and international publications. I have also presented my research at six scientific and practical conferences. During my academic journey, I became the regional winner of the Economics Statistics and Data Analysis Olympiad and later represented my region at the national stage. In addition, I won first place in the institute stage of the “Zukko Kitobxon” (Intelligent Reader) competition, participated in the national “Munozara” (Debate) tournament, and have been an active participant and winner in numerous academic and intellectual competitions.
After entering university, my interests expanded beyond academic research to include creative writing. Reading books, participating in literary events, and creating stories that touch people’s hearts have become an important part of my life. The Shadow, the story you are about to read, is my first work of fiction. I believe that every story I write should encourage readers to reflect, inspire kindness, and promote universal human values.
I am also actively involved in community service. I participate in volunteer initiatives and am the founder of a volunteer-focused startup initiative under Ko’ngilli.uz. To me, contributing to society is more valuable than any personal achievement.
Reading is one of my greatest passions. So far, I have read more than 50 books, each of which has broadened my knowledge, enriched my perspective, and inspired me to pursue greater goals.
My guiding principle is: “Seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave, acquire it, and share it with others.” I firmly believe that knowledge elevates individuals, while education has the power to transform society.
My greatest ambition is to become one of the leading specialists in the field of economics, further develop my academic career, and use my knowledge and experience to benefit others. If my writing or my work can make a positive difference in even one person’s life, I will consider that my greatest achievement.
Morning, the particular time of the day, reminds me of the things that I have not completed on the previous day. I feel guilty for not finishing up all the deeds that I have promised myself to do in due time. I feel anxious. I also feel happy for allowing myself to do the things that are not stranger and new. Making oneself introduced to the new things may take a huge amount of patience and enthusiasm. And here, I am resting on my sofa contemplating over the things that I have to make myself acquainted with. Sadly, the contagious flow of procrastination leaves me in such a state where the human beings become engrossed in the whirlpool of doubts and self- denial. The long black traces of procrastination entangle my body and transform my soul into its food. Is this overthinking? Am I doing it at present? By the way, what am I doing?
Long poem
Part 1
Every morning
I wake up
I feel the sudden rush of blood
Around my eyes
As if some fishes want to come out
Of my eyes
To make a room
In the adjacent areas of my nose.
My waterlogged nose fails to
Feel the pain that is engulfing
Half of my day,
In the evening, I seek
For the rest that may erase my agony;
Alas, it intensifies my ached body
That is unsurpassable.
I hope for that one thing
Peace-
Nothing else;
What do you expect from an ailing soul?
At noon, I open the window pane
To let the rain shower on my body,
Hundred years have passed
And I am looking at the lake;
Some migratory birds roam,
The fountain speaks
Like whistling wind;
Along with them, a voice appears
Like a grotesque shadow;
Seeing their movements, I wish
I can travel to future
To see if I am feeling the same,
Motionless,
Staring at the blank ceiling.
Once upon a time,
I drove an insect away
From my place
Like some house inhabitants do the same things
To some guests.
Nobody is staying there
More than one minute,
It is only me, God and my paper,
I am exchanging emotional words
Not a series of outburst,
A rendezvous,
Maybe,
Before I tranquilize my body
And pacify my eyes
At night.
Part 2
Opening up the drawer
Of her yellow room,
She takes out the revolver
To shoot at her head
To say adieu to all the blues
Imprinted on her body and mind,
She feels
She is possessed by an evil spirit
That disturbs her sleep,
It makes a pact with a venomous worm
That often tries to come out from her ears.
She is ready with her gun
To press the trigger,
A bird with a blue tail
Singing in her hall
Without knowing the next,
Her eyes meet her tail
A rain starts to fall.
The Morning breeze
Morning breeze is like
Some silenced sound
Emitting out from mouth
And then going back
To mouth
To act like a balm
On some unnamed bruises
Received from life.
It is unadulterated
Like the laugh of
The young ones
During morning
After their gigantic sleep
At night.
22. 12. 2022
A morning bird’s conversation with its bruised body
My body is a glass that holds my spirit. My body is not entirely broken and bruised. It is not smooth though it works like an ever enthusiastic teenager. Most of the time, I stand in front of the mirror to have dialogues with my body, to listen to what it wants to express. Secretly. Silently. Loudly. It has its voices. I cannot define its multiple voices that rise up like smoke, and get assimilated into air. I look at the reflection on the mirror. I look at my own selves, my own body. I try to own my body, but it is ungraspable. Yeah. I can touch my body; I can feel the pain, acne. I can sense the mood of my body.
Since childhood, I have a deep sense of inferiority complex that centres on body issues. My paradoxical mind makes me realize that my body is a fragile glass. In my blood, I start feeling the gush of insecurities. Insecurities of not being able to erase the bruises. I open the almirah and look at the stacks of it only to get vanquished by my own thoughts.
Without any shame and shyness, I can admit that sometimes, I carry on conversation with my body. It is like a page, and you are turning over the pages of the book. The book tries to capture your attention. Sometimes, it becomes successful. Sometimes, it does not. Attention is a fickle entity. It has wings so it flies away. But, my eyes are the ones that restore my attention for a long period of time. I blink. I look at my own eyelashes. Eyelashes are not big enough to be used as the cover of a hut. Surely, big enough to cover up my sadness, pain, coyness and happiness. The dark circles around my eyes make me compare between the stimulating, ever mysterious black hole and the unused well of my ancestral home. I carry on conversation with my eyelashes. It opens its petals only to give me vision. Life happens at the intersection of pause and action. Stillness fuels movement. Movement demands stillness. Similarly, my body seeks for it. Therefore, it takes rest. It takes rest for a while. In the meantime, it ponders over something like the length of my hair, smell of eyeballs. Having conversation with my own body does not make me feel guilty. It crosses miles after miles of fear and insecurity to pursue dialogues. I wait to get reply from my belly, navel. I believe that navel is the centre of the cosmos or the miniature of the entire world. It is spiral like the human existence. It is so spiral that it cannot unbind it. Unbinding this thing needs patience and time.
You can start conversation with your newly acquired body on shape, colour that become the reason behind the act of stigmatizing, belittling and shaming. But, you are wordless at that time. You start mumbling. When you grow up, you look at it as God’s gift. You become less harsh on your body, but you carry on your conversation. Maybe, you want answers. Why thin? Why skinny bones? Why long eyelashes? Why brown pupils? Just why and why. You float in the pool of why(s) and what(s) and you cannot fathom its depth. You have shark like teeth that can destroy your own body. Thoughts are like sharks with sharp teeth. It engulfs itself if you think too much. It will do destruction on the bodies. You stop pondering over the things that feel you fragile. You let yourself float. You free yourself from the clutches of ‘what if’ and ‘could have been.’ You roll your eyes. Rain of blood comes down from your forehead. It is a mode of self- destruction. Rain of blood is the extreme outcome of anxiety. You stop stressing and give your eyes a rest. You cry. Your skin starts glowing.
Body is just like the tree. If you water it, it will grow. It will outstretch its branches. Nerves are like the thin, very thin branches of the trees. They intertwine with each other, and create a sculpture inside your body. Even, your body is the sculpture. The end product. Who is the sculptor of your body? The symmetrical lines, the asymmetrical curves, the toes- all construct your shape.
The 24 years old promises herself that she will overcome her fears, insecurities. Little by little. One by one. Otherwise, my body will not grow. I am the one who can allow my body to grow. I stand and look at my image. Image of what? Obviously, images of my body.
17.03.2023
A town girl’s adventure of mind: Seeking refuge and freedom in the morning
It is the not the story of my paternal aunty who finds a deepest friendship with the trees. Her morning starts with the act of nurturing the plants. It is the story of all the aunties, uncles who find refuge in the mid of the plants. Being an oxymoronic soul by nature, I always wonder what will be my exact refuge, an unbreakable bond, a shelter with warmth and charms. If my adventurous attitude seeks for the temperament of the city, my soul demands symphony, a pure bliss and aesthetics. When people ask me about my favourite tourist spots, unfortunately, I can’t answer. My mind blocks my brain for a moment to reciprocate. I know that deep down, I am like water. Always moving, changing shapes and feelings depending on the container. Be it an earthen pot or a plastic water bottle. Am I situational? Do I rely on my instincts and the circumstances? Should I be blamed? Refuge is a feeling; refuge can be the things. Writing, gardening, cooking, travelling, paintings- anything that shuts down the cacophony of the world becomes my refuge. It is something that unearths the melody and drags it out of the noise. Germination happens when everything is at stake. Everything is in the chaos.
I live in a bright town that never fails to hype me up and calm me down when necessity arises. Her love for flowers is synomous to her love for stitching. She does embroidery on the clothes making beautiful figures, shapes of flowers and animals. She weaves her poetic worlds of animal and bird images. Birds are not born to be tamed. They are born to be free. Free from the onslaught of the paws. Paws of chains, barriers of sadness and gloominess. They fly, fall, flap their wings and stutter all along.
Gardening is also like stitching. In both cases, one utilizes one’s hands to give life to something. To live and to feel enliven in a dead world seems to be the hardest act. Her activity makes me question regarding the bond between humans and the world. A city dweller may look for peace in the vanishing appearance of the mild clouds. A village entity may find solace in the surroundings or in the sparkling lights of the city life. Why such misplacement? Is it displacement, misplacement or mismatch? Or something else? It is profound, solemn as gravity pulls us down. In my childhood, I used to look at the sky. Some elders say when you look at the sky, you pray and you find yourself in the lap of the constellation of stars. Maybe, that was my refuge. It is my refuge or something I lack control of. It becomes your blood. You become its veins.
Miraculously, I am penning down my feelings on a morning of my country’s Independence Day. I am 25. What does independence mean? To be free or to feel free? How ironical! How tantalizing! A human body holds spirit within it. A human body is a life. From this life, another life comes out. It is almost like the transmission of lives, transfer of energy. The same human body becomes free when the burning flame called life or the sensation of life gets silent. It is the freeing of the body. The physical freedom. When does mind feel the sense of freedom? I was in corona fever in 2021. My whole body was in acute pain. To release the pain, I painted some pictures. My refuge was in colours. I was in exile but I drew the cityscapes, desert and a scenario. Mostly non-figurative. I channelled my emotions, released my sensation through the hues, and I felt the sense of freedom crawling all over my body. Sometimes, I wonder at my mind’s travels. I am not an escapist.
In the meantime, some dewdrops start melting into the bright light of the morning.
The Seller
Part:2
To rejection, failures and sadness (2022-2023)
Like the sellers, I go from door to door of different publishing houses, presses to submit my works and to make alife. Sometimes, I have to taste my own failures- my failed creations.
Every day is not a good day. I open the mails. The opening lines of those mails start with ‘thank you’ and ‘regret to inform you.’ ‘Thank you’ sounds like the consolation prize, a balm to the wounds that I receive from negative mails. And the negative mails make me aware of my own insecurities and the very replaceable nature of the human beings on the earth. This is for everyone who is like me, like the sellers. They create, submit, cry, fall, submit, create… strive…breathe…
A poem to self: How to respond to the rejection mails
Shedding off tears
Is a big thing
That I can do
By killing my eyes;
If I cannot find gems in my rotten tears
I cannot find strength,
Energy dies to come out
From the ashes of its previous selves.
Blank spaces, delete button know the pain
Of the words that I dare to erase;
From reading lines to reading exclamation signs
My soul goes for a shift
Shift from hope to faith
Like a pilgrimage
To find truth, beauty and solace
And to turn it into sublimity.
Rejection mails are like sand
The more I hold on its sadness
The more it slips through my hands,
It makes me forgetful
Of what I have done and what I can do,
I can paint a heart better
Weave the pieces into a whole
Only to bring back the spark
Around my eyes
Around my brows.
A fine morning comes
After the dark clouds,
Likewise,
Praise resides
In the apparently sorry words;
If I read failures
As bruises,
Not as death,
Not as pause,
I can see
How the words change
And the miracle happens.
11.11.2022
Sadness for rejection
Feeling is a strange word
Like my false skin,
Wherever I go
I have to sense
My feelings
To know –
Do I exist?
Is it only my shadow?
Beware of the dubious nature
Of existence,
One day, you feel –
You are flying,
The other days make you land
Into a place
Embroidered with
Skeletons.
Fear not my soul,
Rather make your art
To meet rejection
To meet acceptance
To let life happen
And let it encounter with
The journey of purgation.
Passage of Rejections
It was a morning of October when she was observing her creations. She was learning how to utter, pronounce words. Deep down, she knew the importance of practice, perseverance and having afine mind to realizewhere to stress and where to stop.
To give a stress on a word is to highlight solely on its significance and meaning. Ironically, it fuels her craft, sincerity and passion for creation. She knows that life is a harsh place and maintaining one’s creative journey for long is not an easy task. It is God’s gift. Fortunate are the ones who keep their burning passion alive. And one has to undergo the process of rejection to meet success, to taste the aroma of life, the melody of music and the rhythmic sound of the world.
She often remembers her days of rejections and failures. Still now, she faces failures. She imagines herself as a rock in order to digest the sharp attack of rusty storm. After storm, there will be a rainbow.
Maybe.
04.01.2023
To misery
When my soul is going through the tunnel of failures,
My eyes look for the light at the end of the tunnels.
Like success, like miracle
It appears.
Excellence comes like the whistling of wind
Or like a rainbow
After the monochromatic drizzle.
My eyes cannot bear the burden of excessive light
When my soul can find
A rhythm in the cacophony of failures.
Alas! Life’s tumultuous agony
That can neither be possessed
Nor be freed
Can only be kept
Under the sky of faith
Sky of doubt
Or in denial;
A soul, in a circus,
Is guided by the parents
And starts walking on a tightrope.
How many steps does a caterpillar take
To fly like a butterfly
To taste a bit of joy?
Alas!
Here, I, forget to count
The minutes that I take to live a fullest life.
O misery, O failures
Don’t chain my body with high magnitude,
I like a snail
Drag my head out of my body
I may get smashed by the cobalt blue of the stormy sky.
Then again,
The light will shine.
18.10.2023
India
(Note: It is a short e-collection of my writings and paintings. In my piece, I have shared a glimpse of my mind, surroundings and places and have tried to depict how the geographical locals influence my mind. The cultural, spatial differences and the colours of India also create the different kind of sensibilities in my psyche. Being an inhabitant of this vast country, it becomes impossible for me to travel physically and so, I travel through my mind. Time is an interesting thing that makes me do certain things. In this case, it is the morning of an Asian country)
There was a colourful toy; and a wooden dog upon a string, and these things were from long before and there were as a rainstorm and the water climbed up the stream sides incredibly high to almost the tips of hills where evergreens lived. But even before that, the lady who was old and a guardian kept gardens and had flowers and raspberries that were colourful and robust and always happy during the summer sun under which they lived. She collected the raspberries sometimes, walking slowly, and carrying a bowl to put them in. She was then healthy, joyous, and often the boy that she took care of followed her and helped or just watched the world the, the trellis and brick and there were a wooden archway and gate that led to the backyards, to those raspberry and flower worlds…
How later the night darkness became full and the spirits spoke, but they were good spirits and angels and a group of them sang songs and comforted him in his ears if spiritual ears and other worldly hearing. And an oval carpet and God or existence was strongest, wisest, and once, even before that, he was sitting with his grandmother on porches and wore comfortable clothes and had curly hair and was happy, smiling, even laughing.
Oh, he remembered her then and thought she was around currently. A guardian. And she was as she was then. Making things, sweaters, hats, and tablecloths. These were crocheted and useful, well-made, and made confidently and often. And he thought then that, Thank God the world had made her and that she cared for him, made him food, and gave him shelter.
In the far south there was a fine cement pool and beyond it, the sea. These things were good things and markers of the divine. He had been swimming in both. Sometimes the guardian was there, had been there, and that was good. In the modern time he wore a large blue winter coat and as he glanced almost accidentally in a mirror one cold winter day, he remembered the time of guardian and that he wore then a blue coat at least one winter and that it had zippers and a button and kept him warm. He thought it nice and somehow even auspicious that both coats were similar and that somewhere his light and the light of the guardian plus the angels and spirit was the same.
