From England to the Indus
Counting cuckoo clocks
beetroots bloom a globe
a jungle sparrow flies me to
the sheen of a teli ajrak
A child in 1980’s England
exhales a cloth
my grandmother’s memory
‘this fabric’s scent of spice is sacred for us’.
Ajrak
in indigo waves
whose surf is wedding rings
carved in acacia wood by a Sindhi carpenter.
Five petals of a mango blossom sit inside
a Sindhan’s white karrahs
her skin glistens in the sun
mirrors on the Sindhi maroo’s topi – catching sun-light
tell the shepherd with his stick
the time has come
the time has come,
to tell the world of ajrak
– “Keep today”,
is a sacred map of Sindh.
A cloth to time
from birth to death,
the heavens and earth
stamped in ajrak.
A Request
Ajrak is a map of compasses,
its hands are a camel herder
pointing caravans of camels;
clinking ankle bells on turmeric dunes
footsteps dressed in ghungaroos
outside the castle of a Sindhi King.
The Badsha inspecting his bed
draped with different sheets each day
remarks
with violet in his iris,
“please, just for another day,
keep this one – ajrak”
Cotton Poems
Ajrak’s master maker – the Usto
is a giant white crane
he tears sheets of cotton thread
musical notes lift off pearl rice weave.
A circle of devotees
to Sindh’s Poet Saint Abdul Shah Bhittai,
strum damburo, strum the sarangi.
Cedar wood songs
– verses of Shah jo Risalo:
‘Wondrous devotion spinners have,
who tremble, spin and spin’.
At dusk, cotton trees give birth to clouds on stalks
burst cotton caskets are five pointed stars
bales of dreams
carried on the heads of cotton pickers,
their eyes speak to the ears of youth
whose blood moves like the Indus
this land where all are born with green fingers.
The Elephant’s Trunk
A jungle sparrow
holds the light of a waxing moon,
the Arabian sea from Balochistan,
the Persian Gulf, Oman —Yemen and Africa
are the outline of a slate blue elephant.
Arabic roots spell Azraq, the colour blue.
We fly over the Thar desert
houses like pomegranate shells on ocean beds,
Sindhi clay pots with buffalo milk
are birds eye views of comets.
Grains of sand know ‘Ajharat’, one that will not fade
like night brings rest to day,
it has it will remain, ajrak.
Glaciers Flow Near Kinjar Lake
Soaked in glacier water
the crowns of the Himalayas cool
the Indus to the Arabian sea
sitting on Sindhu weave,
we watch white swirls on fresh water.
Palla fish manoeuvre bones – snap dragon flies;
the blind river dolphins, the Bhulan’s whistle to us
‘Indigo is the colour of the Indus’.
Lunar refractions
are the fisherwoman Noori,
who the soul of Jan Tamashi still searches for
at twilight
in Jan’s memory sapphire swamphens
open their beaks singing
how an Indus mulberry flower
became a queen.
We are all the songs of fisher people,
poets and saints.
Shaadi
Ajrak draped on shoulders
like gold beads resting on collar bones.
Pipes play vibrate –
the life beat of a lover’s call.
Palms pulsate on tabla skins – dhun dhun
the village orchestra on a wedding day.
On a white horse, groom swoons galloping
– in sehra shells rocking rose petals
black dot, black behind lobe
wards off coveting wanting eyes
wanting the life beat
dholak player beats drum
– drum beats
thunn dhukka thunn.
– Dhukka dhukka dhunn
echoes of goat skin
a dance on mango trunk
the trance of a wedding day.
A Sacred Bath
Henna’d hands, greet hands;
in the Indus workers palms wrap — rotating fabric.
Skin strikes water to cloth
– dhukka dhunn, meniscus music
– dhunn dhukka dhunn;
torsos gather the river’s beat
baptise light in the lengths of the Indus.
Thunder dahil beats
cotton is wrung
twisted coiled on the edge of a kumbh
the shape of a white turban
like the head of the Sain on his daughter’s wedding day.
A thud from the thumb of the dholak player
dhunn
signals dawn
a giant turban is unwrapped
this ancient parchment
scribed in morning sun
the flesh of an unripe Sindhri mango in May.
Fabric of Life
Cloth of earth, spice, resist
Sindh’s mystery mix.
Jelsa berries fall on mango stones
farmers slice shukkar kaandi with a sickle,
honey sticks serenade red earth.
Ivory stamps on the father’s turban
is the indigo bedding of his new born
a land’s language
draped, over coffins.
Thumb slams skin of the drum
– dhukka dhun
wax cloth with resist,
with lime, with acacia gum.
Charcoal ferrous outline
dhukka dun –
Fullers Earth, Multani Mhitti, molasses
– dhunnn dhukka dunn – drumming on skin.
We resist time
the king priest of Mohenjo-daro resists time
the metamorphic rock of Sindh resists time.
My words are a cloth
sun flames the earth
the Indus gives life,
moving this story of ajrak.
Drawing the Elements
The alghoza plays, wind travels
through the hollow of a peepal trunk
dervishes outstretch arms
tracing ellipses
– alghoza’s voyage
like river water in long roots.
Cotton branches set flint to fire
fabric dipped in sun-syrup-oil
Alghoza in forests of mangroves
crimson night lights white kirani stars,
– a cotton path steams in moonlight
pining for a solar Indus.
– When the alghoza joins a chorus of waking river birds,
wings rise like dried orange kesu phools,
ajrak is dawn’s lit canvas
and love is the Indus, Sindh playing on its banks.
The Dance of Red Indigo Flame
Streams of ajrak dry
I dance with a jungle sparrow,
dancing the colour red – laal.
Blood red, like the underbody of breath is ajrak
the shanties of the women of Sindh are ajrak
pallah gather river to sea, in ajrak
musicians couplets – of Abdul Shah Bhitai are ajrak
Sindh’s diaspora – red in our heart and indigo skin is ajrak.
Humanity moves to the flares of the sun – in ajrak.
The blue in the sky and granite river clouds are ajrak
the shape of the earth and our space is a dot in ajrak.
– Ajrak, keep today
is a sacred map of compasses.
Hana Ormara is an artist and poet from London. Ormara’s work has been published in the UK and internationally; and is inspired by her Baloch heritage and indigenous traditions of poetic storytelling. Her debut pamphlet Godhuma: the breathing of the earth, published by Intergraphia Press, honours the ancient people of Mehrgarh, and won the 2026 Micheal Marks Award for Illustration.
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