“a Woman of Essence”- Lily Swarn

Primulaceae

A first rose, even the eternity of Time and Space in its rolling upside-down movements, won’t ever be changed nor be moved by the pressing darkness of  the winds… in fact, its aromatic splendour can’t even  be stopped. Anyone it touches gets infected with love, a love that would never change course till the end of never.

HD lily final WOE 2019

Lily Swarn, first to exhibit at my WUP Virtual PoetEncomium Galleria 2017, and who was awarded a distinctive certificate, “Global Poet Encomium Of Peace and Universal Love, has been on continuous wings… seemingly, her talents are blessed by the naughty ‘Time and Space’. She has written four books. Her poetry collection , A Trellis Of Ecstasy, has been lauded by the Journal of Commonwealth Literature, London as a “ veritable delight “. Her novel The Gypsy Trail , was launched by the Governor of Punjab? History On My Plate is her latest book. She won 27 awards till date like the Reuel International Prize for Poetry 2016… quite continuous trails other poets find difficult to mirror due to‘Space and Time’ misty tantrums.

But who would be surprised, when she grew up in an enchanted world of multi-hued dreams visualized with coloured glasses . A daughter of a brilliant lawyer father and a gorgeous gentle encouraging mother whose generous soul lived in her large limpid eyes, and though given all the things she ever wanted, her disciplinarian father had still successfully infused on to her, the noble decency and beauty of feminine being.

Her city of birth, Chandigarh, North of India, brags of its well planned City; broad tree lining the avenues with vibrant bursting blossoms in its every changing season, compliments Lily’s life fascinating dreams. Schooled in the best convent in town, Carmel Convent, her super-devouring reads, made her an outstanding student both in studies and extra curricular activities; her teachers so loved her  her first award; a short story written for the Blood Bank Society of India, when she was barely  eleven age.

“Sometimes i get perturbed by my diminutive stature so I wear high heels during my gawky teenage years. My flowing tresses, my expressive eyes, flaunted on  my passion for elocution and dramatics, where upon  leaving school, I earned the title “versatile genius “.

College was a joyous medley of Honours in English, French Optional, History and Hindi. She  discovered learnt various arts of literature thereby,  collected impressive caches of medal and award, judged as the Best All Around student,  received a Gold Medal .

Spiritualism and Religions caught up with her too. Nothing second best for her, a real Primulaceae, she was  an active student leader, created a Wall Magazine in which she and other students poured their  hearts. “I won two university colours . One for Dramatics as best actress and one for Histrionics. Roles were  being offered for films but I had education on my mind. It was by a strange stroke of luck that I was offered a job as a lecturer of English in the coveted Sacred Heart College, Dalhousie. I was barely two years older than the girls I started teaching and my results had still not come.”

Her arranged marriage to an army officer changed the course of her small town life… she travelled all over India in various cantonments, her two children schooled in myriad schools.  The death of her 23 age son, stabbed  jolted her joyous life for a while, until poetic language, which is inside her, activated her pen to creating beautiful verses, phrases… becoming her crutches, alleviating her griefs, which gifted her over 27 awards and four highly appreciated and widely acclaimed books to her credit

A Trellis Of Ecstasy ( Poetry )

Lilies of the Valley ( essays )

The Gypsy Trail (a  novel )

History on my Plate ( the origin of food)

asked about Life:

“It is said that life is a whim of several billion cells  to be ‘you’ for a while. I feel that there has to be much more to this fascinating thing called life . The pessimists feel, you are born, wet, naked and hungry ,then things get worse! Sometimes you get a splinter in your thigh, sliding down a rainbow. For most of us, life is a foreign language, which we often mispronounce. A famous man’s grandfather told him that life is like licking honey off a thorn! For all these dismal creatures , I entreat and beseech you to see the wondrous  creation that we are. An astounding , accurate, bewildering  jigsaw of nerves, skin and veins which is infused with a  powerful , immortal soul. We are  venerable; we are divine; we are the world. We are indeed staggeringly stunning. A magical creature that is breathing, walking , dancing, singing. So let us be grateful for the gift of life and not ruin it by mourning and cribbing about the package it is in. Let us measure out our life with the proverbial coffee spoons. Life is to be lived in its minuscule moments of tiny joys.”

asked about Love:

“A balm that soothes frayed souls and dejected beings .The panacea for all ills and the manna from heavens that keeps one inebriated and immersed in a meditative state of thankfulness.Love is life . Hate corrodes the vessel it is in . Love makes it glow with irradiance and luminosity. Love has the magnetic power to open doors that no dynamite can ever blow off. Keeping the flame of love alive and shining is the secret of perennial bliss. Love can help you achieve Nirvana for the love of God is more potent than the love for any mortal .As the legendary love story of Punjab Heer Ranjha says “ Ranjha Ranjha kardini.”

lily2 draft

Mai aape Ranjha hoyi                                

By chanting my beloved’s name

I have become one with him 

 

 

 

Poem 1

If 

If the gleaming beads of perspiration  just above your upper lip morphed into diamonds ,

I wouldn’t ever try to steal them

and I would let them glow on your ecstatic visage 

Sanctifying my prayer room with their divine luminosity 

If the rivers from your mountains went into spate as they meandered over my plains 

I would let them break their embankments and rush across my fields 

My paper boats would wobble and tremble till I drowned in the tsunami of your love 

If the burnt sienna of the maple leaves would lie fuming on their own carpet 

I would add incense to their smoke and dance like a dervish in trance 

My white turban singing a soulful melody with my ballooning robes 

If the world was going to vanish into the ether along with your soul 

I would pick up your shreds from the shrapnel in my heart and whisk you away 

Safe in the caverns of Peace and repose where 

I could watch you sleep like a dreaming baby 

If the ifs in my life were not the ifs in yours 

Then this verse would still be waiting to be read by you 

Copyright Lily Swarn 6.4.2019 

[end]

 

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