A poem that I entered in the All India Poetry Contest 2016 has won a prize :-)
The house is more than 120 years old...
A red hibiscus flower peeps
through
a rusty iron gate,
It creaks as I swing it open
and walk down the narrow sandy path.
A plum-headed parakeet peers
out of a tree hole, looking for its mate.
And around the corner of the house, where the well,
Where papaya trees line the compound wall.
I turn another corner and behind
a green thicket of cannas,
The memorial stones of my
great-grandparents lie in peaceful rest.
Hidden amidst the trees, a crow pheasant calls,
The house is more than 120 years old...
My Grandmother’s
Home
a rusty iron gate,
It creaks as I swing it open
and walk down the narrow sandy path.
Lantana bushes lean over the
parapet on either side,
Their colourful flowers,
splashes of yellow,
Orange and pink amidst the
green foliage.
Tall coconut trees rise behind
them, reaching up to the sky.
A plum-headed parakeet peers
out of a tree hole, looking for its mate.
Ahead, the sandy path opens
into a courtyard that surrounds the house,
Low steps lead up to the long
cool veranda,
Where two kittens play in the
shade of the ochre-tiled roof,
That slopes down from the
second floor,
Where mama cat lounges nonchalantly on the sun-warmed tiles.
I walk past the rows of potted
plants on the steps along the veranda’s edge,
And around the corner of the house, where the well,
With its brown laterite walls covered in green moss,
Waits for someone to break the silence with a splash,
By letting down the iron bucket and chain,
Into the cool depths, where small black fish circle amidst the water weeds.
Around the back and there’s
the kitchen garden,
Where papaya trees line the compound wall.
A curry tree near the open
kitchen door,
Provides fresh leaves for memorable meals;
Cats wait outside the kitchen door for leftover bits of fish.
Squirrels run over the gnarled old mango and jack trees,
And the smell of ripe jackfruit hangs invitingly in the air;
At night, fruit bats enjoy the sweet taste of succulent mangoes.
Around the corner and in the shade of the rear porch,
A stack of coconuts waits to
be eaten,
Along with heaps of dried palm
leaves to be burnt,
As fuel in the old kitchen
hearth.
I turn another corner and behind
a green thicket of cannas,
Having come full circle, I
turn and climb up the steps to the veranda,
Where we young cousins studied
and played in its cool shade.
Watched over by my grandmother
on her easy chair.
I hear the echoes of our childhood
laughter…
I sit on her chair and look
out at the green vista,
Where bee-eaters and sunbirds chirp
as they flit among the flowers.
Hidden amidst the trees, a crow pheasant calls,
Its deep booming interrupts their twitter.
I look up and see an owl perched beneath the eaves,
Sleeping peacefully under the roof.
I try to pen down my thoughts
on paper,
And find myself able to write
just a line—
‘All of us found shelter here…’
