Keki Daruwalla.  Migrations.

Keki Daruwalla. Migrations.

Author: The Ceylon Press September 27, 2025 Duration: 2:20

 
Migrations are always difficult: 
ask any drought, 
any plague; 
ask the year 1947. 
Ask the chronicles themselves: 
if there had been no migrations 
would there have been enough
history to munch on?

Going back in time is also tough.
Ask anyone back-trekking to Sargodha
or Jhelum or Mianwali and they'll tell you.
New faces among old brick;
politeness, sentiment,
dripping from the lips of strangers.
This is still your house, Sir.

And if you meditate on time
that is no longer time -
(the past is frozen, it is stone,
that which doesn't move
and pulsate is not time) -
if you meditate on that scrap of time,
the mood turns pensive
like the monsoons
gathering in the skies
but not breaking.

Mother used to ask, don't you remember my mother?
You'd be in the kitchen all the time
and run with the fries she ladled out,
still sizzling on the plate.
Don't you remember her at all?
Mother's fallen face
would fall further
at my impassivity.
Now my dreams ask me
If I remember my mother
And I am not sure how I'll handle that.
Migrating across years is also difficult.


ENJOY MORE
 The Ceylon Press publishes a range of podcasts including The History Of Sri Lanka; the off-grid Jungle Diaries podcast; Island Stories, the podcast that explores what makes Sri Lanka, Sri Lankan; the Wild Isle Podcast: Stories from Sri Lanka’s Nature; as well as Poetry from The Jungle.  All these, along with eBooks, dictionaries, guides and companions can be found at www.theceylonpress.com, based at The Flame Tree Estate & Hotel in the jungle northwest of Kandy: www.flametreeestate.com.  
 
 The copyright of this podcast recording is David Swarbrick @The Ceylon Press 2025. 

 

POETRY FROM THE JUNGLE GRATEFULLY ACKNOWLEDGES THE COPYRIGHT CREDIT: 
© 2002, Keki Daruwalla

From: The Map-maker

Publisher: Ravi Dayal Publisher, Delhi


There’s a particular sound to the jungle-a layered quiet of leaves, birds, and distant water. It’s from within that atmosphere that The Sri Lanka Podcast: Poetry From The Jungle finds its voice. Produced by The Ceylon Press, each episode is recorded at the Flame Tree Estate & Hotel, nestled in the wilds northwest of Kandy. This isn’t a standard literary analysis show; it’s an experience of resonance. Here, timeless poems by renowned authors are read aloud, allowing their rhythms and meanings to intertwine with the ambient sounds of a Sri Lankan forest. The setting does more than provide backdrop-it actively shapes how you hear each word, offering a fresh and quietly profound perspective on verses you thought you knew. This podcast invites a slower kind of listening, where a classic sonnet might be punctuated by a monsoon shower or the call of a hornbill. It’s for anyone who believes place matters, that the environment where a story is told becomes part of the story itself. Tune in for a unique fusion of the literary and the natural, a deliberate retreat into the world of spoken art framed by one of the planet’s most vibrant soundscapes.
Author: Language: English Episodes: 89

The Sri Lanka Podcast: Poetry From The Jungle
Podcast Episodes
John Clare.   I Am. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:01
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, My friends forsake me like a memory lost; I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost; And yet I am! a…
Geoffrey Hill.  From Mercian Hymns. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 8:03
I King of the perennial holly-groves, the riven sandstone: overlord of the M5: architect of the historic rampart and ditch, the citadel at Tamworth, the summer hermitage in Holy Cross: guardian of the Welsh Bridge and th…
Gabriel Okara.  The Paino And The Drums. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:17
When at break of day at a riverside I hear the jungle drums telegraphing the mystic rhythm, urgent, rawlike bleeding flesh, speaking of primal youth and the beginning I see the panther ready to pounce the leopard snarlin…
Ezra Pound.  The Garden. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:33
The Garden. By Ezra Pound. Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anemia. And round about there is a r…
Emily Dickinson.  Because I Could Not Stop For Death. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:49
Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility…
Edward Thomas.  Adlestrop. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:41
Yes. I remember Adlestrop— The name, because one afternoon Of heat the express-train drew up there Unwontedly. It was late June. The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat. No one left and no one came On the bare platf…
Du Fu.  A Woman Of Quality. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:37
Matchless in breeding and beauty, a fine lady has taken refuge in this forsaken valley. She is of good family, she says, but her fortune has withered away; now she lives as the grass and trees. When the heartlands fell t…
Douglas Dunn.  Kaleidoscope. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:46
Kaleidoscope. By Douglas Dunn. To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray, Might be to find you pillowed with your books, Your inventories listing gowns and frocks As if preparing for a holiday. Or, turning from the lan…
Alcman.  Night Poem. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:30
Over the drowsy earth still night prevails; Calm sleep the mountain tops and shady vales, The rugged cliffs and hollow glens; The cattle on the hill. Deep in the sea, The countless finny race and monster brood Tranquil r…