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.

5 thoughts on “Remembrance

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    A richly textured, evocative piece that shines with an unassuming narrative clarity. Here is a work that is both insightful and immersive whilst avoiding the conventionalities of sentimental reminiscence.


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