by M.Mohankumar
This land, overgrown with brushwood.
Here once stood an old house where
I spent my happy childhood days.
The brick-lined well is still intact.
Where is the flowering pala tree,
the rumoured abode of a yakshi?
The old lady next door has a dreamy,
uncertain look. She stares at me vacantly.
My words are lost on her; yet I go on,
connecting names with names,
till the reels of her memory unroll.
Now words pour out of her mouth,
words of affection, smothering me.
We reminisce.’ I remember,’ she says,
‘you’re that noisy child… ‘
I’m the noisy child, romping about,
with other noisy children, all over here,
darling of the two pale-faced ladies –
your sisters- who never stirred out of
their upstairs rooms, shut in by walls
hung with photos and Belgian glasses.
‘You may go up and have a look.’
No, granny, I’m not the uninhibited child
that I was thirty years ago. And what
am I to see, up there, except two
darkened rooms, long since vacant?
Let the old memories remain untainted.
‘Another time,’ I say, averting my eyes.
Mohankumar has published seven volumes of poetry in English. His poems have appeared in almost all reputed literary magazines in print in India. His first collection of short stories in English will be brought out by Authorspress, Delhi shortly. Mohankumar retired as Chief secretary to Government of Kerala.
Pic : Orange Tuesday – http://www.flickr.com/photos/63138333@N00/
