The evening I walk past the street,
The soft breeze came with a smell so sweet,
And I went back to my childhood days, as I remember
The pink bunch of flower grasping a twig of the creeper
Hanging from the boundary wall of our paternal home
That my gracious sweet old granny had sown.
The warmth of her hug, the smell of her white Sari
I do remember the little girl longing for a story.
The nights passed with dreams of fairies,
And the days rolled without any worries.
The warmth of mom’s calling by the nickname,
I wish the days would have been the same.
A bowl of puffed rice and some oily snacks
The smell of mustard sauce and the lengthy yaks
The scuffles with sister over petty things,
And the sounds of laughter filled the evenings.
Boundless love of Dad was the greatest riches, Gone were the days of perfect bliss.