Click here for shortcuts to regional language blogs and city-specific events.
In grade 2 we used to have poetry class. My poetry teacher was an Anglo-Indian lady, Mrs. Olga. She looked every bit English in her kitten heels and box pleated dresses. Her ginger hair and blue eyes were poetry alright. I eagerly waited for the class once a week which was late afternoon on a Wednesday or Thursday.
I would wait to run my fingers on the pink, smooth, silken page of the poetry book. How can one ever forget learning "The Beggar maid" by Alfred Lord Tennyson. "This beggar maid shall be my queen!". Those words get me in a tizzy, even today. The few times love won over in a poem. Then came Sant Kabir the dohas helped me learn the basic precepts of life. I was so in love with the simplicity of the weaver poet, years later my son was named after him.
I published a few poems in the local newspaper a young man sent me a letter appreciating my sensitivity at 13. Somehow I gave up poetry maybe one or two for the college magazine. Two decades later with no poetry, a big part of myself was lost, but one day high on tears and tea a poem was written and the writing has never stopped. Poetry began early in my life, it enriched me so much. Today much has changed, unfortunately in my school going children's lives, there is no room for rhyme. What a shame! I urge schools to bring poetry back to the classroom, the benefits are huge.
Why we need poetry back in schools:
Sometimes words are all we have to give our kids!