"In Ballater and Finzean"

to the children and teachers of Ballater and Finzean
Primary Schools

A poem by Bashabi Fraser about "Language of Rivers and Leaves" Sept 27- Oct2 2004,
Patrick Geddes and Rabindranath Tagore and, Scotland and India.

Click the pictures for larger version or other images!

The Poem :: The Poem Illustrated :: Childrens poems :: LR & L Main

As I stepped into the Monaltrie Hotel
And met the graceful hostess from Thailand
I felt I was in a repeat shot of a film shot through time.
I had been here, in this very spot. Then I had watched
A wedding like viewing photographs of a celebration
As a passing visitor, when we opted to halt in Ballater,
Lured by its breathtaking beauty, one summer
When a surge of Scottish nationalism made us
Spurn the ‘abroad’, to feast on the rolling vistas
Of the Highlands and the magnetic charm of the Islands.

And here was I, again in Ballater, the village where
Geddes was born, at the splash centre of a celebration
A century and a half after his birth, from where
He had moved across the world to change it
With his visionary work of conservative surgery.

This was another journey, brought as we were
Through the sculpted dreams of Kenny, now
Carved in a boat with hand prints of little palms
And rainbow pictures on the hull
Of the ‘Golden Boat’, the ‘Sonar Tari’ from Bengal.
We had been shipped in by the energetic drive
Of Mindy and each day, we marvelled along
The Geddes walk, inspired by Tom’s
Panels in the historic railway station
Where trains did not appear, but where
We could journey through time, on Geddes’ trek.

And we did, climbing the heights with Gavin
At Craigendarroch, disoriented by the oaks
As each fluttering shadow, each glimpse of
Ballater swung me to this reality, away from
The Himalayan majesty I had once
Seen beyond those forests of pines.

As the river Dee flowed with certainty to the sea
And the leaves held on to an Indian summer week,
We caught the language of rivers and leaves
Translated into shapely boats and fish rattles
Chained out in rhymes and colours, on posters
And banners, the trees and the hills, small life in the dales
Cast in ravishing themes in the nine box grid
That children wove, spun and painted
With Ian and Laura, Tandra and Pulak
As eastern colours on Scottish glass
Captured the landscape in reverse.

Our parent bagpiper, weaving her procession
In Hamlyn style down the sloping road in the valley
Of the Feugh at Finzean, startled the horses
To a restless gallop and the cows came bouncing across
The meadow in well meant appreciation,
Spectators to the planting of a Rowan tree for luck
By Maureen, at the edge of the Finzean green,
Where a voice from the past greeted me in Hindustani
In a Scot returned from his days in the world
When Empires ruled and Geddes roamed.

At Ballater as the Scottish and Indian flags waved
Folks out onto doorsteps of cottages, a merry walk
Took Louise and her troop led by a band of
Tartaned bagpipers, followed by the golden boat
On a trailer, till it invaded the village green,
Witnessed by Sheila’s Vellore Cottage
That name from South India, now tucked into
The terraced row of Hawthorn Place.
The birthday cake regaled Geddes’ fans
Before the procession moved on, holding
The clouds at bay, willing the rain to stay away
Till Sonar Tari slid with relief into the waters
Of Loch Kinord, the boat which had made the
Journey of journeys on a rickshaw and a ship,
Crossing continents and seas, tugged over motorways
To now float in peace, bobbing in the breeze
Its red sail ready to embrace the sunset
Of its Scottish harbour, at its journey’s end.
For a week, the schools and the woods
Had echoed to the soft trills of a Tagore song
And Kumar’s flute, with the melody
Of young voices now ready for the world.