Day-29
NaPoWriMo-2025
PC:Sunita
Those summers,
Had the same spike
But, they were innocent
Simple, vivid, bohemian-
Colours of childhood.
With a feeling of belonging.
The thatched roof of the grandparents
Shaded happiness in a creamy bliss.
There were no airs
Airs of status, caste, and complexes
Life was just a breath of fresh air
No televisions, mobiles, cars, or electricity
To trap the body and soul in a static hole.
The cacophonous night was silenced
In the flickering of the lamps
When grandmother's shadow played
Hide and seek on the walls
As she churned out story after stories
Bringing Rama, Sita, and the rakshasas alive.
The benevolent sky and the verdant meadows
Sheltered rustic treasures.
The brooks quenched the thirst
The wild berries satiated the soul
A tiny nest of myna stirred curiosity
A hooting owl left us in awe.
So many memories in the quaint hamlet,
Dusted with miners' blood,
Nestled in the red-veined nature's lap.
A ragi bhakri with jaggery
Rice gruel and raw mango pieces,
A simple potato bhajji,
And a thin rice polle or chapati
Served with a toothy smile
Made those summers
The best season of the year.
No comments:
Post a Comment