In Love We Trust

Trips and Trials ~ A Selection of Poems and Songs

Dedicated to my husband, Sibabrata Tripathi (Indian Foreign Service, 1979).

May 3rd 1955 ~ February 27th 2017

L-R Amrita Tripathi, Meeta Sengupta and Sanchit Goel, the Publisher~ with the writer, on 13th December 2018
India House, Nairobi, Kenya 2010
Copyright Sketch of the writer in 1984 by Sibabrata Tripathi

A Trilogy


Molten pools, liquid fire
dancing in mischief,
recollections of joy.
Ablaze with passion
of a deep-rooted anger
at mankind’s inhumanity.
Softly aglow
with love’s special light,
bedimmed, moist,
once the passion’s spent.
Truly the poets have spoken:
Eyes reflect the soul.


peeping through crevices
into a darkened room,
glistening in the morning sun,
beckoning into the mystical beyond,
caressing my face
in a light evening shower,
Your eyes are all this to me.


Injustice still stalks the earth untamed,
I sense your pain, the futility of it all
each time you walk through the door
my words freeze, suspended mid-air.
The day’s events shrivel,
forlorn, unsung,
Exiled forever.
But I do not despair,
Life goes on.
We now find peace
in pregnant silence,
sipping tea on the terrace,
so civilized,
growing older tentatively.
Your eyes flicker, mine respond-
so much is left unsaid
for another time, another day.
ls it already too late?
How am I interpret this transition?
With the mercy of a Woman
or the sudden anguish
Of a Child?


Lost Sunsets

Will you miss me when I am gone?
The soft curve of my wrinkled cheek,
My fragrance at dawn?
Will you recall all the moments
Of our family,
Travel, laughter and song,
Listening to melodies in alien lands?
Or will you frown, reflecting upon my constant need
For perfection, in an imperfect world?
Idealistic, frantic, seeking approval,
Always placing others’ needs, before our own?
Will you miss the moments we missed
As we plodded on, decade by decade?
In the quiet shadow of evensong, I ask you
Do you miss me while I am still here?
I apologise for all our lost sunsets,
But you owe me too….words, words of faith.

The Trailing Wife 

My entrance beside him,
Ivory brocade Banarasi saree,
glittering jhumkas,
golden bangles, jingle jangle
rings on my fingers and toes,
Elicit nods,
Affirmative Words,
Power by Default
begets Cocktail smiles.

Stalwart, feisty
in the realm of
unknown gods,
repeat after me
or him, or her,
“Really, but really, not really?”
I listen
often in covert disdain.

Two steps back
Guilty as charged –
Non-Designated Person.

Futile moments reflect
Academia interrupted,
Hemingway, Neruda,
missing you.

Converse non-political,
Smile social.
The milieu insensitive
Ignorant, askew.

Heart beats
Mark time,
Crescendo chatter.
I falter, gasp
Puffs of air
Smother, choke,
No exit too near,
Fall in line.
The Trailing Wife’s

Published by Jayshree M. Tripathi

Jayshree Misra Tripathi lived a nomadic lifestyle from 1986 till 2015, as the wife of a career foreign service officer in the Indian Civil Service. She has written from across three continents - as a freelance journalist, poet and chronicler. Jayshree followed up her MA in English (Literature) from Delhi University (1978), with a Post Graduate Diploma in Human Rights Law from the National Law School of India University, Bengaluru (Distance Education programme, 2001). She has taught English Language and Literature, been an examiner in English for the Diploma of the International Baccalaureate Organisation and was their trained Consultant.

Leave a Reply