by Sunaina Jain
Laced in threads of nostalgia
On the old-fashioned loom of life
I weave the warp and woof….
of my lost ‘Home’
The wooden cot under the starry firmament
The pale moon on the terrace
The leisure-filled dreams
flying to indigo canopy at a steady pace
The earthly scent of the soil
soaked in summer rains
The courtyard mulberry tree
Its branches proliferating out
on the stained window panes!
The ancient banyan and its pregnant roots
birthed stories; written and rehearsed
The meeting point of the motley crowd
Discourses of saints; the blessed and the cursed
Innocent pleasures
when less was more
No social media
Still news knocked around door to door
What brought me here I wonder
What did I not surrender?
My peace, my charm
Now memories in my head swarm
Spinning the daily grind and rut!
The din of the city
The chained flight
The death of candied dreams
Night after night!
The soulless aims
The cut-throat games
Soft pillows
yet hardened hearts
Caught up in the
game of darts
Ah! My ‘Home’
only a figment now
‘An imaginary homeland’
Only questions remain
‘What’, ‘why’ and ‘how’!
Pic from https://www.flickr.com/photos/trangam/
