The idyllic memories of the past,
Drifting through the parched mind,
Sliding back to my remote hamlet.
The fury of torrents lashing the blue hills,
The wind spiraling through the green paddies,
The crunching of wriggling bamboo stems,
The belly dancing of the coconut trees,
The herd rushing for the shelter,
The lonely shepherd under the plantain,
The gushing of the mountain stream,
Suddenly the wrath of the torrents stops.
Cleansing the sky and earth,
Leaving the instant pools and streams,
Pearl droplets from the foliage,
Rolling crystals on yam leaves,
Orphaned mangoes lying for a pick,
Fragrant bed of jasmines and *chembagam,
The blissful world of my childhood.
(In memory of my little hamlet in Kerala)
* Chembagam is a fragrant flower of plumeria tree, also called frangipani in English.
4 comments:
Chechi kalki! I'd visualise your words. God has given this gift to only a few. So, please use it.
Thank You Aniya! I need that morale booster.
I was right there in Kerela while going through your poem. Those are beautiful memories well said!
The irony is, they are only memories now and my children will not see most of it. Blue hills have gone barren. Mountain stream dried up. Paddy field has become a colony. Bamboos, yam and Chembagams died along with my grand mother.
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