writeALONG 21 October 2025

A TUESDAY FEATURE

hosts: Padma Rajeswari, K. Ramesh

guest editor: Mohua Maulik

Only the unpublished poems (that are never published on any social media platform/journals/anthologies) posted here for each prompt will be considered for Triveni Haikai India's monthly journal -- haikuKATHA, each month.

Poets are requested to post poems (haiku/senryu) that adhere to the prompts/exercises given.

Only 1 poem to be posted in 24 hours. Total 2 poems per poet are allowed each week (numbered 1,2). So, revise your poems till 'words obey your call'.

If a poet wants feedback, then the poet must mention 'feedback welcome' below each poem that is being posted.

Responses are usually a mixture of grain and chaff. The poet has to be discerning about what to take for the final version of the poem or the unedited version will be picked up for the journal.

The final version should be on top of the original version for selection.

Poetry is a serious business. Give you best attempt to feature in haikuKATHA !!

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Rabindranath Tagore (May 7^th  1861 to August 7^th  1941) was an Indian poet, writer, playwright, composer, philosopher, and painter who wrote primarily in Bengali. He is the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature (1913) for Gitanjali (or Song Offerings).  A prolific writer, I have been told that it is not possible to read all that he has written, in one’s lifetime.

For this week’s writing challenge, I have chosen one of his translated poems. I hope it will also take you back to your childhood and inspire you to write your own poem.

Vocation

When the gong sounds ten in the morning and I walk to school by our lane,

Every day I meet the hawker crying, “Bangles, crystal bangles!”

There is nothing to hurry him on, there is no road he must take,

no place he must go to, no time when he must come home.

I wish I were a hawker, spending my day in the road, crying, “Bangles, crystal bangles!”

When at four in the afternoon I come back from the school,

I can see through the gate of that house the gardener digging the ground.

He does what he likes with his spade, he soils his clothes with dust,

nobody takes him to task, if he gets baked in the sun or gets wet.

I wish I were a gardener digging away at the garden with nobody to stop me from digging.

Just as it gets dark in the evening and my mother sends me to bed,

I can see through my open window the watchman walking up and down.

The lane is dark and lonely, and the street lamp stands like a giant with one red eye in its head.

The watchman swings his lantern and walks with his shadow at his side,

and never once goes to bed in his life.

I wish I were a watchman walking the street all night,

chasing the shadows with my lantern.

Reference:

National Council of Educational Research and Training (2006). Honeysuckle. Vocation - Rabindranath Tagore (pp. 109-111). Published at the Publication Division by the Secretary, National Council of Educational Research and Training, Sri Aurobindo Marg, New Delhi.