Writing Haiku Poems

image from: sarahjmartin.blogspot.com

Haiku poems fascinate me. The traditional haiku format consists of 17 syllables, classically divided into 5-7-5 and in English, is generally written in 3 lines.

I find the form of the haiku intriguing and challenging. Like another Japanese art-form, the bonsai, the haiku, too, demands a cruel twisting and pruning. But like a bonsai plant, a well-written haiku is personified perfection : emotion, personal image, collective idea and form come together--like Blake's description of the tiger--in "fearful symmetry." Unlimited power, harnessed and restrained, compacted into an impossible density that nevertheless embodies grace and effortless movement.

Like the best beeda of pan or kacha golla sandesh, the haiku poem melts in the mouth quickly, gone before you realise it, before you've had nearly enough, leaving you craving for more even when the texture of it, the flavour of it, the memory of it lingers on and on, tingles, brings alive every cell in your mouth and makes it feel, well, deliciously different for a very, very long time.

For just a 17 syllable literary form though, there are too many alleged rules that one is supposed to follow. In fact, some of those rules are so contradictory, there's no way one can follow all of them! However, I have found that most people who write haiku poetry in English tend to follow some basic tenets:

A haiku poem must have 2 distinct parts--the "fragment," which is short and either line 1 or line 3 and the "phrase," which is longer and thus either lines 1 and 2 or lines 2 and 3.

I write haiku to discipline my craft and condense it. I find that when I write poetry, I prefer compression of expression and the older I become, the less I want to say and the more I want it to mean.

I'm waiting for the day I'll be able to make a haiku out of my life.

"Working Women"

And while we’re on the subject of women and society, I have another pet peeve—the words “Working Woman.” As far as I am concerned, I have never seen a woman who does not “work.” All women are working-women. Unfortunately, only some of us get paid and recognized for the work we do and unfortunately, the work that gets paid for and recognized generally happens outside the home.

My mother never earned a penny, but oh, she worked!
We were an extended or “joint” business family of 14 members with one or more houseguests almost all days of the year and my mother managed that household and its resources so wonderfully.
Individual tastes and special dietary needs were effortlessly catered to. A virtual army of drivers, vendors, part-timers and full timers were administered without a falter.
Absentees, gaps in service, broken vehicles were all dealt with without effect on the routines of the other members of the family.
Clothes were miraculously collected, washed, dried, folded, ironed and returned to the respective rooms and wardrobes without a hitch.
Sickness, cuts and broken bones were taken into her stride without a drop in her smile.
Homework was checked, diaries signed, schoolbooks covered, projects aided: no problems at all.
Ripped jeans and missing buttons were mended in a jiffy and without a frown.
Fights were arbitrated to everybody’s satisfaction; tantrums and transgressions were punished; hurts and upsets were gently soothed…
And after all this she had time, energy and money left over for charity—now that’s what I call optimum usage of her resources!
My mother ran several service industries rolled into one. She practiced several professions simultaneously and excelled in each one.
She was Receptionist, Housekeeper, Master Chef, Accountant, Manager, Tailor, Nurse and Doctor, Lawyer and Judge, Teacher and Mentor and Counselor….
Oh, yes, she worked! And she didn’t have the celebrations of Mother’s Day and the SMS messages of Women’s Day to felicitate her contribution to our world. We didn’t think she was someone special to put on a pedestal for a few “Reminder Days” of the year.
Most of all, she didn’t feel she needed special treatment because she was a woman.

ON WOMEN'S DAY

I sat down and thought about it, and in the 365 and a-quarter days of every year, there are basically 3 types of days that we “observe.”

• There are those days that are supposed to be unequivocally happy—birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, Id, Gurpurab, Diwali—and we celebrate those with gathering, gift giving and feasting.
• There are those days that are supposed to be unequivocally sad—9/11, death anniversaries, Muharram—and we mark them with speeches, prayers and memorabilia.
• And then there is a third category of what I call “Reminder Days”—AIDS day, Alzheimer’s Awareness Day, Armed Forces Day, Friendship Day, Grandparents Day, Valentines Day, Earth Day, Holocast Day, Women’s Day…

Why do we need these special “memorial” days?Is it because these are issues, emotions, people that we neglect on the other 364 days?

Or is it that these are issues, emotions and people that don’t really come first in our daily order of things?

Is it because these are issues, emotions and people we take for granted and need to remind ourselves to “notice” and “celebrate” one day of the year?

Or is it because these are issues, emotions and people we don’t consider important enough to dedicate the whole year to; because these are issues, emotions and people we think are dealt with and taken care of in that one day and for the rest of the year we can feel good that we gave them that one day and they are to be grateful that they have that one day.

Have you noticed that in all those reminder days about people—Mothers, Fathers, Grandparents, Friends, Women—there isn’t something called a Man’s Day? That, my more militant feminist friends would say, is because every day is Man’s Day.

Every Women’s Day I get a lot of text messages from all kinds of people.
Some of these messages are very sweet and feminine and appreciative, some are eager and sincere, some want to put us on pedestals and perpetuate the “woman as martyr” myth and talk about the sacrifices women make and those special qualities we have—as if we are all Mother Teresas whose calling in life is to neglect our own needs and “nurture” the “world” to help it become “better.” Then there are those sarcastic ones that make men our worst enemies and laugh at the expense of the other gender:

“God created women second because after he created man he stepped back and
thought, ‘I can do better than this.”

“Despite the old saying ‘don’t take your troubles to bed’ many women still sleep with their husbands….”

I really think those are unfair. I like men. Men are nice people. Some of my most favourite humans are men. I don’t think we need to disparage men to be appreciated as women. I don’t think men need to be reminded of our value on any special day.

I think by perpetuating myths and dividing genders we are perpetuating our own persecution as the “weaker” sex.
I really don’t think we need a blanket Women’s day per se. I do think we need several other reminder days to “notice” the injustice and torture being committed on certain sections of our society that happen to comprise primarily, but not exclusively, of women.

So while we don’t need a Women’s day, we do, perhaps, need a “Rape Victims Day” or a “Dowry Death Day” or a “Battered Wife Day” or a “Neglected Old Person Day.”