One More Yesterday

I wish one more yesterday 

If I could, with you 

To walk along the Marina beach

Where I wished to propose you 

Holding your hands like lovers 

Without any undisturbed winds 

To hear your husky voice calling me

darling and sharing your thoughts 

I wish to see your colourful smile 

For one more time to seal it in my heart 

And walk away towards the grim sunset

Without saying goodbyes and any tears 

I want to purge the memories with you 

In the poems, I wrote for you years ago 

I know that you have read each of them 

I'll light a lamp with ounces of  whiskey 

Like a dark love burning bright at its end 

A poem based on word prompts #moonmystic #atreyasverse #ConverStory and  #ThePush. The image taken from Unsplash. Thank You :)

A Lost Infant

 A lost infant 

A lost bundle of dreams

Weaved during ten months 

Inside the mother's womb

About a lifetime of raising a child 

From the first scan of the movement

To the first  kick on the belly 

Listening to the sweet little things 

With an ear on the belly 

The selection of a sweet name

The shopping for welcoming baby

The decoration of the room and cradle 

A long wait for seeing the face

A long wait for seeing the smile 

A long wait to hear the first words

A long wait to see the first walk 

A long wait to play with the god's gift 

It's a short-lived joy

As the child left this world 

Too early 

It's a pain hard to heal

The tears of the bereaved  mother

The broken heart of a silent father 

 Consoling each other in silence 

Words can't console their loss 

As the image of their breathless infant

Haunt them as nightmares in 

Sleepless nights and hopeless days 

With all their hopes for a lifetime

Buried inside a small casket 

In the graveyard of sorrows 

With wishes for a cradle in heaven

This poem is written in solidarity with my friends who lost their children too early. Some inside the womb itself. 

Once Upon A Dream

 

Once upon a dream

I saw a pretty girl in my life

Unseen before and unknown

But she wandered into my house

Like my best friend for years

And a neighbour for decades

She had shared so many things

Like I am her secret keeper

She watered the plants inside my house

Whispering something to them with a smile

She went outside to buy something

After telling me to wait for her to return

Was she the friend I craved in my childhood?

To play, with me instead of my imaginary friends

Or was she the reflection of my best friend's friend?

Who used to pick up my calls when he was not around

I was curious about her, but I'd never seen her face

I wonder if my mind created imagery of her from the voice!

I woke up in the morning with questions about the strange girl

But I couldn't recollect her face again in my mind, though I tried

My friend, an artist, listened to the impressions I had about her

She made a sketch of this girl with an angelic face

She termed this dreamy girl, the angel of my life

I looked for girls with the face as in the sketch

My girlfriends didn't have that face

I've lost that sketch along the way

But that angelic face is still in mind

I wonder if that dream was a hint

About someone, I will meet in future

I'm still waiting for that

Girl to show up somewhere

Someday!

This poem is based on a word prompt from #loveletters . Image from Pixabay. Thank You :)

A Lone Walker

I am a lone walker

After the sunset 

Along a tiled riverside pathway 

With the company of the silent river 

Under the canopy of plantains and trees 

Guided by the moonlight and lights from homes

Without the hustles of walkers and runners 

It is a realm I crave in big cities for a walk

With crickets from bushes on the sides 

Making noise along with the birds 

The reeds wave along with the wind 

Lonely streetlamps are a relief 

In pitch dark areas I see mirages 

Of individuals looking at the river

I could hear the conversations of 

People enjoying drinks in the evening 

The movements in the bushes scare at times

As the bund used to be a haven of snakes 

I have seen mongooses wandering around 

I see the imageries on the ripples of rivers 

Created by the lights from the other shore 

Seeds of poems give my mind a workout 

Sometimes, the mind tells me interesting tales

The music from temples on the other shore 

Spruces mind at the end of the pathway 

At times, I see men sitting on the stone benches 

Enjoying the peace of evening in darkness 

The walk itself is an affirmation to see

Sunrise on dawn someday 

As I remain chained to the sleeping pill 

My long walks in the past drove me to 

Move to other cities with a belief 

I am walking with an aim 

To escape from here!

This poem is based on the seed I had in mind while walking in the evening. I indeed walk when there is nobody in the path. Image from the Unsplash. 

Time Brought You To Me

Time brought you to me 

I wonder if you will realise 

You're fluttering like a butterfly 

With the wings of lovely words 

I was lost in another dark world 

Until I saw the glimpse of your smile 

Until I read the imagery of your poems 

I know, time will take you away from me 

So, I will cherish every word you write 

I will dive into the sceneries you create 

And write my own sceneries from that 

Like a chain of poems in a collaboration 

I hope you will read them and laugh at 

The silliness of my wordplay, silently 

I am not tempted to chase a wild deer 

It's pretty to see it run on meadows free

I will read your words in my lonely nights

I hope I will dive into some nice dreams 

Image from Unsplash 

Decision

Make sure you clear up your mind,
Decide what is best for your future.
Do you see me as part of that journey?
If not, prepare me for your departure.
I will pack all the memories and dreams;
You can keep all the gifts and moments.
You'll still be in my heart as spring of past.
Let's walk away without uttering a word;
Without hugs, kisses, and sad goodbyes!
If you want to go on a journey with me,
Let go of all those dark fights we had,
All the tears and nightmares we shared,
And all those hurtful words we hurled.
Let's make a new start for our lost love!
Let's travel through new places to build                                                                                                  new dreams, experiences and memories.                                                                                                Let's promise to hold on to each other!

A poem based on word prompt #FromOneLine. Image from Unsplash. Thank you :)

Vishu: The Harvest Festival

 Vishu is a festival that evokes 

Memories from the childhood 

During the school holidays 

While I stayed at my Uncle's home

We used to collect golden shower flowers 

To place in front of a picture of Lord Krishna 

Along with rice, fruits, coconut, jasmine flowers 

and other auspicious items at night 

That is believed to make lord pleased 

In the morning, Aunt used to wake me up

And keep my eyes closed to take me to the

room to show the first view of Krishna and other 

Auspicious items for praying for a good year ahead

Then Uncle and Aunt gave coins as part of the elders

Giving younger ones the money for a prosperous year ahead

I and cousins used to go to my relatives' and neighbours houses

To collect coins as part of the custom and we used to save them

It used to be our pocket money for the year as kids 

The  scrumptious meal and dessert payasam 

Those images are still memorable 

It is hard to get golden shower flowers now 

And it's been a while since I celebrated Vishu 

I felt like a kid when my Mum's friend gave me 

coin and a currency note along with milk today

Wishing me a prosperous year ahead 

I felt like I saw Lord Krishna in her

My Mum too gave money like every year

I remember giving coins to the kids in the alley 

On a Vishu, when I was in Pune 

Their happiness was pure bliss 

The farmers that harvest rice, fruits and 

vegetables are the real heroes of this festival 

Images from Dreams Time and Alamy

A Fireplace Romance

 

A winter night at your place

When the snow is falling like rain

Let's become shenanigans of love

Beneath the disordered clocks

Finding the warmth in

A bed of roses for fireplace fantasies

And for decadent dreams in silence

Two glasses of red wine awaiting

With slow music to set the mood for the night

You're the star of the night in red attire

While we face the sprawling fire

Like the orange clouds during a sunset

I will read your favourite books aloud

While you lay on my chest, listening

Be kind with your touches and kisses

I will be gentle with my playful hands

I want to be the sculptor finishing

The curves of your body with my touches

It's the night I've been waiting for a while

To be in your arms and forget the world

Let's share the venom of our last first kiss

On your peach lips with passion

Lead me for kisses all over you

Let's make love for one last time

Let's play all your fantasies until we last

And our thirst for lust gets quenched

Let's seal the moment in our hearts

We don't know if we will ever see a fireplace

Again together!

This poem is based on the word prompts from twitter #moonmystic #2WordPrompt #loveletters #vssdaily #FlexVSS #atreyasverse #WIPWordSearch #wordsoupdaily #sensualscribbles #TalesNoir #1LineWed Image from Unsplash

A Blue Lake of Love

A blue lake of love 

Looks surreal with green backdrop 

The thistle flowers dance with wind 

While flora find the vibes of romance

Let's sail our boat of crush and flirt 

And see how far we can go with wind

I'll try to win your heart, you try to stop

I'll lose in your eyes, you try to evade it 

I'll steal your smiles, you try blankface

I'll glorify your beauty, you try not to fall

You don't have to try anything for me 

I've already fallen in dreams about you 

We can send our poetries into the sky 

Let the wind take them to new shores

While you decide the fate of our future

This poem is based on word prompts from #inkMine. Image from Unsplash.

Another Life?

 

The tales of second life 

With impeccable memory of the past 

Often get the curious media coverage 

I wonder if it is a mental ability to know 

About the life of another person in detail

Is it a sheer coincidence of guess getting a match?

Many a day I tried to recollect my past life

Imagined me in different eras and countries

I think  I never had a previous life

I do not think I will have another life 

I never tried the virtual second life 

Nor I will try the metaverse 

If I have another life 

I would love to be a nomad 

I would love to travel and write 

The stories that are beyond me now

I hope I won't go through another love

I hope I won't go through another breakup 

I want to be a wanderer in search of glimpses 

Of  the sceneries that are surreal in the world 

And experience the life of being a human  in that modern era 

But I fear, I might end up in a colony on Mars or some other planet 

As a cyborg, clone, zombie, humanoid, or unknown species of that era

With artificial intelligence, life-enabling gadgets  self-healing and regeneration 

Living among sceneries and experiences beyond my imagination right now 

May be amidst a war with the aliens or the evolved human species'

Without ever experiencing the natural wonders that our earth offer 

This poem is a continuation of the thoughts about life, death, and life after death related to my recent poems in this blog.  Image from Unsplash. Thank you :)  The previous poems in this series are My Final Day On Earth and  What After The Death  . 

What After The Death?

 

Another death 

Another poignant family 

What dreams may have died?

The moment after the last breath 

What will happen to life?

Where will it go?

Afterlife

It sounds like a hope

Is there really another life to live?

From the moment of leaving the body

The soul may wander around 

Will it meet other souls?

I've seen the last breath of my dad 

I've seen him in my dreams and nightmares 

I wonder where he is right now in this universe!

There are those who proclaim that it's their second life 

They tell about the incidents from their old life

Some even find their old families!

Is there hell and heaven?

 It sounds like two magical worlds

Do we get to live another long life there?  

What is the purpose of this life, if it is meant only to be short?

Has God lined up other tasks for us after the death?

Why does he leave our dreams unfinished?

I wonder if I will get another life

As a microbe, plant, animal, human or even an alien!

It is a mystery similar to how this world popped up from nowhere!

This is based on remnants from a discussion I had with my ex-girlfriend about death, afterlife, soul etc during a holy month. Image is taken from Unsplash. Thanks :)  My Final Day On Earth is the previous poem and  Another Life? is the next poem in this series. 

My Final Day On Earth

 

One final day on this earth is special 

I'll visit a church or temple to pray 

Maybe a bribe to get a ticket to heaven

It's a relief for my broken and lonely heart 

No more battles to fight to survive another day 

No more worries to live through the pain 

I'll try to see the sunrise that I rarely see

I'll tell the sun to be gentle on me that day

I'll walk through the park for one last walk

I'll let the shower be my last rainfall 

And the crushed ice be my last snow 

I'll throw stones in a nearby stream 

I'll write poems from my sweet memories

I'll write an obituary for myself and send 

It to a digital newspaper for publishing 

I don't have many people to meet or call

I'll rather leave short goodbye messages 

With the hope of meeting again somewhere 

I'll hail a taxi and travel around for a while

To see the places I love, near where I live 

To bid adieu to the long walks I used to have

I'll spend some time in my vegetable garden

I'll water my plants and treat them with manure

I'll request someone to look after my garden 

I'll throw away the medicines that control me

And try to sleep on my own for seeing dreams

I'll try to wake up to the nightmares of my past

If there is a beach nearby, I will go there 

Walk on the sands and play with the waves

I hope I would last until the glorious sunset

If not, I will go to a hill for a final trek 

To breathe the misty air from the trees 

And embrace the clouds on the grass

I would cook myself a spicy last dinner 

With a dessert, I loved from my childhood

And one last toast to myself with a wine 

I hope I will see my loved ones waiting for me

Like my grandfather saw his, in the death bed 

I'll go with them without any regrets and sorrow

This poem is based on #journalingprompt 'What would you do if you knew you had one day left to live?' The next poems in this series are What After Death? and  Another Life? . 

A Pithy Smile

I'm missing yesterday's smile of you 

It was magical, made of moonshine 

I thought of visiting you again hours

later, as I wished to see it glint again

 

It was your final pithy smile for me

A talkative girl's silent departing gift

Like a touching speech by an orator

Prepared with soulless emptiness

 

I regret not taking you out in a steam  

Train, that whistles like hustles of rain

Through the snow caped valleys that

You wished to see during last winter

 

You were jaded, as I was so jealous of

your friends, who stole away the time

that I wished to keep aside for ourself

I wish I had words to melt your heart

 

I've read your journal about our breakup

You were sad and let the tears sooth the

pain, You were conscious about state of

my mind, but you chose to remain silent

 

A poem based on word prompts from #WriteMap #moonmystic #poetryprompt #BraveWrite #WIPWordSearch #WordSoupDaily#atreyasverse. Image from Unsplash Thanks to Michael Dam 

An Analyst's Block

I was so excited when I moved to Pune to be  

A market research analyst with the start-up, I associated with for two years

It was my dream job and I had to wait for years for an opportunity

I was struggling with a break-up and a sleep disorder

I was unaware that I was under depression

After a slow start, I enjoyed being involved in all aspects of that firm 

I loved researching markets and analyzing qualitatively

with the tools and techniques available

Finding new trends, technologies and updates 

Then the doctor advised me to quit the medicine and I got

a new medicine of lower dosage, My struggle started right there 

I started losing sleep and I couldn't focus on research

I had a short break during an important week as I struggled 

    I would sit for hours in front of the laptop to only write a few paragraphs 

I started getting headaches, and my world moved slowly 

It was embarrassing, as I couldn't engage in tight deadlines 

I started losing my temper and my frustration increased 

I was working on reports on my own and had targets 

I refused to get involved in an urgent report and company profiles

One day, I felt I couldn't do anything anymore and I asked my 

team leader to let me go home and work from home 

The company owner and team leader decided to allow that  

Provided I meet the monthly targets 

For days I sat blankly in front of a laptop trying to do company profiles 

No matter my efforts, it felt it was beyond me 

I had unfinished reports in front of me and I couldn't finish 

Without medicine, I struggled to sleep and I tried walking 

To tire me and induce sleep, and it took a while for it to work

But still, I couldn't write a thing on my report 

Slowly I was able to research and study other markets

But still, I couldn't do the company profiles and it gave me so much stress 

I had to quit my job and return home and had to engage in another field  

I was diagnosed with depression and I came under medication 

It helped me to come out of stress and be more focused on tasks

The lockdown made me sit at home and do research for a project 

I found research exciting again and spent hours every day 

Then I got a chance to associate with another market research firm

And it gave me the confidence to be a freelancer and found work through analysts 

Then almost two years later, I was doing company profiles in bulk 

And I was doing market research reports again with excitement

It was magical, as I was able to do something I felt was beyond me 

It was like a long writer's block for me that affected my career!

PS: I still wonder why I couldn't do one particular task. It was beyond me at that point. I found it easy later. I am going through another phase of it after an ambitious attempt to come out of medicines. The reduction in dosage left me struggling to do the simple task that I used to do with ease. It doesn't affect my creative writing though. Depression has taken away the joy I had with my work. I had to write this to motivate myself again and continue with my efforts. 

Languages of Life

I can't comprehend the language of love

anymore, I feel I am a new born illiterate 

After unlearning the love and it's mirage

I have frozen the memories in my mind  

I have closed the doors of my faint heart 

Maybe, I am getting older to like misery

Maybe, I am finding peace in the voids 

That I didn't try to fill with a new person

I found my old hobbies more exciting 

That I started doing things I gave up 

I learned the art of gratitude to appreciate

The small things that give me happiness 

I am gifting my precious time to silence 

I am hearing the voices from the nature 

I'm delving deep into the novel thoughts

I'm praying calmly to the god for guidance

I'm dreaming silently about a new destiny

I'm giving my pen ink to write new words

It has opened the floodgates of poetry 

In a way, I am relearning languages of life 

A poem based on wordprompts from #inkmine . Image from Unsplash 

Deception

Her moonlit glasses
Hid her bumble eyes
Wandering around to
See the man who fell
For her beguile words
and smile, Her hollow
love had razor's edge
To win disputes with
him, Everytime they
faced fights of egos
She thrived in poems
He wrote about her
He was drunk in his
Innocent love for her
She's just abiding time
Enjoying the glitters of
his company, Until his
purpose in her life ends
He was dreaming about
An impossible life with her
He didn't realise that she is
a mirage that he cannot own
She would fly away like a bird
When she come across another
man, Who is rich and more exciting 

This poem is based on word prompts from #vss365 #crowcalls #vssmagic #ThePush #Wordsofglass #moonmystic and   #FridayPhrases

Image from www.dreamstime.com

An Exodus From Arcot

An exodus that never made any waves 

Under the siege of British colonial army 

Long before the formation of India union

A break away group left the native Arcot

Leaving behind their wealth,and heritage

To avoid life under the captive of enemy

Found refuge in the southern travancore 

Locals ostracized them as the outsiders 

Treating them as unequals in all sectors

They were served tea in coconut shells 

They became a new community with

New narrative and a new resolve to fight

The successors revolted against British 

They chose to seek education for kids 

At the cost of surrendering the identity 

When India became sovereign nation 

They stopped speaking their lingua Tamil

They stopped celebrating their customs 

They became malayalies like the natives

Celebrating the festivals of the Kerala 

They have slowly attained prosperity 

None of them tried to go back to Arcot 

They wonder if locals will welcome them 

More than a century after the exodus 

This poem is about a section of a community that had to relocate from Arcot near Chennai  to travancore/Kerala during British onslaught in 19th century. It changed their lives. They had to rebuild their lives with new realities and identity.  Missionaries gave them education. They chose education over social status. They became a new community with privileges attained for being backward in their new native.

The High School Dictator

This poem is written for a guest post on Jamie Adams's website  https://jamieadstories.blog/  

I wish to extend my heartfelt thanks to Jamie Adams for this opportunity. This is my first guest post ever. Corporal punishments are now banned. This poem is about incidents that happened more than 24 years ago. 

I saw a dream 

I was back in my high school 

Again to learn some discipline 

There were total strangers 

But a man stood out 

He was the dreaded frog-eyed man 

The principal and headmaster 

He had difficult eyesight, 

But he had a good hearing capability

He had strict rules for the school 

The school was silent like a library mostly

Smacking with a stick was legal in 

his era, If you're late, you get 

smacked, We had  fearful days in 

school, Teachers looked for a reason

to expel us from the class, To be 

caught by him during his long walk   

 twice a day, Looking for preys to take to 

the office room, To give warning and smacking 

Students tried to do homework at all costs, 

We tried not to make any nuisance,

Even during class with no tutoring due to fear, 

It's more fearful if he asks to bring our parents, 

He would talk about the performance of 

ward at school, And our parents give him the right

to discipline their wards, He would mercilessly

fail students who he doesn't have faith, In  keeping

the hundred percentage record of the school, 

in the state level exams in the tenth standard, 

Those who survive the cull had extra classes,

And he used to monitor our progress closely, 

We had to get a signature from a parent, 

That we did all the tasks on the checklist daily, 

Without that teacher would make us stand, 

We would hide on the sides of the window,

As he has difficulty seeing around, 

One day he caught me standing during the 

lunch break, I was asked to perform 100 squats 

publicly, With my hands on my ears, The school's 

good reputation was built by him, More than fear,

The urge to get good marks drives students to study

hard, The pride in being part of the glory of the school

help us too, It's funny to think now, he taught us not to

waste food, He used to check our lunch boxes after eating,

He taught us to wear dhoti, By making it a uniform on Fridays,

He was in front to feast us on a special day, The one rupee coin

he gave on Vishu is still special, The school assemblies and his 

address, Remain a distant memory!

I saw my high school principal again in my dream last night. So I felt he is an appropriate topic to write on. I was scared of him and his punishments. He had an aura about him. Image from Adobe Stock. 

Llama

A guy in Dubai drank

Too much liquid of midnight

Celebrating his success in the desert

He wanted to raise a camel as his pet

He  searched for it in online pet stores

He liked the smile of one and bought it

He forgot about it until he got a call

From a delivery company, to receive

The animal he bought from Bolivia

He had no memory, that too from 

Bolivia, He checked his internet history,       

To find the day he shopped online,            

He saw the confirmatory email for                

the shopping, He was amused when             

he saw the llama, Not a camel, it had a            

head like a goat, It was a small animal              

full of fur, it had an infectious smile, 

He found out that it was from the Andes

mountains, He still liked its smile, But 

he wondered how to raise it in the desert! 

He set up a cooler enclave on his farm, 

And he placed an order for a couple more, 

For giving company to his llama!

A poem based on word prompts from #atreyasverse #2WordPrompt Image from Unsplash 

Larkspur Wish'

When the velvet dusk haunts moon,            

I will be waiting for you with            

Larkspur flowers

I want to put them on your pink hair,          

To make you gleam at night with              

shy smile 

I will end my woeful wanderings,

for listening to the soulful music that            

you play

And you will see me dancing wildly to the

music of you, and lose in potion of             

your love

The purpose of my life is to build a new life,

 with you in an estuary of                  

your dreams

 A poem based on word prompts from #atreyasverse #BraveWrite #moonmystic #VIVpoem #vss365 #WIPWordSearch Image from Google 

Temple For You

I want to look for a mount

Like Olympus in the Asgard

Not the haven of the gods

But a kingdom of the demons

To build a big temple for you

In the valley with thick forest

And rocks for an ideal pilgrimage

Columns like in Greek temples

Arches like in the Persepolis

Structure like a mini colosseum

Atop, a pyramid like in Egypt

Minarets around like in Arabia

Flooring with the Italian marbles

Sanctum sanctorum carved in a

Single granite from the Karnataka

I’ll keep a sculptures of your demons

I’ll worship it with my poetic verses

Sprinkling heavenly scents of attar

And bunch of Jasmines that you like

I'll lit the temple with camphor lights

In the midnight I will pour blood on

Deities to quench its insatiable thirst

I’ll offer gifts from the occult priests

Fulfil their wishes with your demonic

Powers that you used to destroy me !

Your greed and arrogance will be the

 Offering for the ooccultist pilgrims

Who have cruel wishes to fulfil at the

Expense of miseries  of their rivals!

 

A poem based on #reevesroses word prompt . Image from MasterFile

An Old Fisherwoman

 A lanky old woman 

With a holy cross attached to her chain

Carried a big Aluminum pot

Full of fish on her head 

She travelled by buses to faraway 

Places from her shore to sell fish 

She walked kilometres every day 

Be it summer, winter or monsoon 

She had a set of houses to give fish 

Yet she would hide some for us 

If she gets special fish on occasions

She would keep the fish at our home and go

Without waiting for payment 

She would say, give it later 

She always gave fish at a fairer price

Her relative used to work with my father

She always had an attachment to our family

She brought us fish for more than a decade

We don't get the fish like she used to bring, now

She shared tales from her life and shore 

How the landscape changed with foreign money

And how the sea tides have changed their lives

She had no kids and her husband was no more

She lived with her sister's kid 

She sold fish until her health deteriorated

She never liked sitting idle at home 

She prayed for us in her church 

Her belief is still strong 

She made wishes for me 

When I had a struggling phase

She used to bring a cake 

and sweet red wine 

During every Christmas 

That's something we miss now

She is into her nineties now

Still talks to Mum once in a while 

A Kerala saree is  waiting to be gifted to her

She is like a relative without blood relation

Some relations are deeper than blood relations 

Women like her are inspiring, who battle life 

On their own, even in their old age 

We still talk about her when we buy special fish

Image from DreamsTime 

My Village From Memories

I grew up on a hill  

With a Church next to my home

There were no roads back then

A path could let only one person walk

Along the steepness of the hill

I dreamed of a road and buses plying 

one day 

The tapioca fields filled the barren land 

Coconut trees filled the other parts 

A narrow river was the lifeline 

of the paddy fields on the plains

There was an unfinished temple

On one shore of the river 

There was a low stone bridge connecting the hills

Often get flooded during the monsoon

People used to catch fish using primitive ways 

Sand miners dived from boats 

 to dig sand from the depths

Leaving many deep patches in the river 

The paddy fields had big frogs and snakes

that was after them

Farmers used bullocks to till the paddy fields

and the mud spliced like art 

Ponds dotted the landscape 

With source nearby 

Small streams took the water towards

the paddy fields 

On holidays we used to sit on the walls

To look at the vehicles and rare buses 

A small forest of rubber trees 

Dotted in some parts

The market was vibrant with local produce

fish and other essentials 

It hosts events at night sometimes 

All major shops and restaurants were

closer to the market 

People kept slices of coconut to dry on the road

The aroma of coconut oil draws 

When you get nearer to the cold pressers 

During summer paddy fields made way for 

beans and vegetables

Some others tried their luck with plantains 

The telephone was rare in those days 

Even telly was there in a few homes

And the neighbours flock to watch 

Until the voltage goes down in the eve

VCRs were hired to play movies 

On the day before weddings 

The stages and shades were set up with

Areca nut poles and coconut leaves 

People were sent to faraway places

To inform the death 

The whole village helped in the mourning 

Older people would relish their paan

Old loudspeakers were tied to the electric poles

and trees during the festivals 

A canal brought water from the Neyyar dam

for the farmers in the hills 

I spent a lot of time playing in that canal 

In front of my home 

And I remember a literacy program 

That helped the elderly people 

To learn to read and write 

And the people used to share the fruits

in their land with the neighbours

And there were drunkards who loved 

drinking nearby the river and the canal slab

 

Image from Unsplash