Catalysts

Today is a very special anniversary. And there are people out there who made it possible. People who made such a difference, and so casually, almost unthinkingly - though what they did, and achieved, was the very opposite of thoughtlessness. Some kinds of generosity are formidable in their absoluteness. I wrote this poem for another set of people, just as precious, but it holds good for the ones I am thinking of today - for very different reasons. All that might be just a bit too elliptical but I don't think I have the words for clarity right now.

Catalysts*

It takes little to change

a life.

In the whisper of a breath,

in the echo of a smile;

tectonic plates, ocean currents,

cosmic forces that could

drive our destinies,

swing, bow and let through,

newness, transformation.

A spring of fresh clear water,

or a lee of verdant growth.

Maybe even a landmass, a continent.

Or disappearance: of arid wastelands,

swamps of dismay, even over-run

thickets of uncertainty?

They call it a catalyst.

A nimble spirit they seek everywhere,

in alchemy not the least.

And how would you greet that unsettling

tremor, the slight trigger etching out

glistening - unknown, unknowable, scary

but so desired -  fresh lines on the palms

of fate's domineering hand ?

Would it vanish in fear

if I turned around, and hailed

it with two puny words;

tried to convey all the beauty,

the glory, the pain of new-

found quests, of goals

emboldened, paths chosen

(not sprung, nor borne) with just

thank you?

Should I watch it cross these

thresholds with muted tread

from the curves of eyes,

and assume sightlessness

so it continues the spell?

Or polish the floor with rose-petals,

leave bowls of silent,

fragrant saffron – reward

and tempt at once in the hope

of regular returns?

Often though, I only learn

of a visit from damp footprints

outside my door, and a stir

in the air, spring unplanned

and unplugged.

Karthika Naïr, 01/01/2008

* Catalysts was first published in Bearings (HarperCollins India, 2009)