There was 'A Little
Friend' who ate bread crumbs,
He was 'My Best Friend' in
London because we both were the lonesomes.
He reminded me of my
friends- our gang of four feathers,
When we were in Simla and
were the 'Boy Scouts Forever'.
Went into we jungle and
tasted the 'Bitter Gooseberries'.
Whose 'Fragrance In The
Air' was all over in the 'Garden of Memories'.
There was a 'Hill of
Fairies' beside 'The Canal'
'The Good Earth' was
calling us and our nostrils were smelling something royale.
There was a row of some
odd cafes behind which was a 'Garden of a Thousand Trees',
'As a Boy' I was tempted
to enter that bliss, and asked my pals, "Can we go there please?"
Our friend, the 'Boy in a
Blue Pullover' entered 'In a Strange Cafè', and he walked slow,
'We Three' followed him
and looked for a perfect seat 'In search of the Perfect Window'.
'A New Flower' was
blooming near, for which words of praise I have none,
There were some lovely
birds but I was waiting for the 'Return of The White Pigeon'.
The white pigeon was one
among those I saw near 'Bhabhiji's House' where, I know, I always belong,
That house in Delhi was
the one where I found that for me 'Love's a Sad Song'.
Suddenly, there was the
'Monkey trouble' that broke my spell,
And, I saw there were
'Miss Romola and Others', waiting for the breakfast bell.
And then there was 'A
Knock at the Door' and 'Here Comes Mr. Oliver'.
He has 'The Eyes of the
Eagle', so before he says something, we four saluted, "Good morning,
sir!"
'Mr. Oliver's Diary' was
opening to write down the names where he kept a bookmark,
"You shouldn't be
roaming far away from the camp," 'He said it with Arsenic', but suddenly
we all heard a dog bark.
There was 'The Black Cat'
who had 'The Evil Eye',
'The Cat Has Something to
Say' that made the dog bark and the 'White Mice' cry.
I thought 'If Mice Could
Roar', the black cat would be frightened,
And if 'The Elephant and
the Cassowary Bird' could become best friends, grandfather's life would be
brightened.
Grandfather's memory
reminded me of the day when 'Grandfather Fights an Ostrich',
The days were those when
among 'Grandfather's Many Faces', there was the face of a Witch.
'Wilson's Bridge' was her
home,
Where she could freely
roam.
'The Demon Driver' was
grandfather's one more disguise,
'Simla and Delhi, 1943'
were his favorite places where he was seen in his car, touching the skies.
The waiter brought a plate
of royale,
And to the memory land, I
once again had a fall.
I remember my
grandmother's words, 'Respect Your Breakfast'
Her thoughts, written all
over the kitchen walls, were nothing but her kitchen life's gist.
She was as active as a
kid, climbing the walls and the trees,
The thought of 'Granny's
tree climbing' is what still makes me freeze.
I remember then our
'Escape from java',
Me, my father, and uncle
Ken eating all the way sour guava.
'Uncle Ken's Rumble in the
Jungle' was the talk of the town,
'Uncle Ken's Feathered
Foes' made him a king with a feather crown.
He detests all but 'The
Parrot Who Wouldn't Talk',
He pitied the 'Bird Life
In The City' and to the wild he took his usual walk.
We finished the royale and
came back to the Jungle.
A tiger was there as
frightened of us as we were of him. We took a few steps back and said,
"Good day to You, Uncle."
Memories are good. I love
to go back to my past.
Now I live in Landour,
where life is not so fast.
'April in Landour' was the
time when I came here,
'Reading Was My Religion'
and I had nothing else to go anywhere.
I love the mountain
strolls and my hill movements,
Now I write about Uncles,
Aunts, and Elephants.
-Ekta Kubba
Comments
Post a Comment