I remember meeting her first
Clearly when I was four or five
She arrived every year till May from March and always in time.
‘Ma’ greeted her warmly within our premises of home
Treated her lovingly and kept her with gratitude
Moments before she left she filled our home with fruits
And said lovingly, “Do expect me next year, dude”.
I grew up slowly
Left the village and came to town
Left the home and bought the ‘flat’-my only crown
Very busy I am
From day to night
For those ‘colourful papers’ are now my only strive.
But, she arrives still
Every year till May from March
Waits for me to welcome her
But I am very busy still.
So I slam the door on her face
And don’t even turn around to see
Whether she is O.K?
For the greed of those ‘colourful papers’ are now my only strive.
Today I am retired,
Jailed within this ’four by four’ home of mine.
I owe today plenty of ‘time’
But ‘my own people’ are all elope from mine
Into their life those ‘colourful papers’ have now found its way
I sit alone the whole day long
And sometimes the ’stupid box’ speaks along.
Suddenly she arrives
Right on time again
Waits for me, to open the flat’s gateway.
I open my door to let her in
She seems to me the same beauty queen
Her green saree added to her glow
Years later, shrine beauty of her hadn’t aged up though
It made me remember my childhood days
I ride back to my village home again
Passing through the mudded route
My home my sweet home I see
My mother warm hug is awaiting me
I can see my mother shouting aloud,
“Ohh my sweet boy, come to my couch”.
Rain started falling from my long trodden deserted eyes
I cannot do anything but only wait by
They flowed ruthless without any end
As if they said to me,” You have long made us stand”.
Among the tears I saw a sweet ‘pink’ child
Peep through her saree and startled mine
“Hey sweetheart did you miss me so much?” was child’s question to mine
Seeing thy Nature’s beauty I could do nothing but be only surprised
The child is mocking me, “Hey you betrayed my mother for years”
“So now you are in tears”
The calm blowing wind found it’s way through my windows
Saying, “Don’t cry don’t cry I am here”
Instead of stopping they flooded me though
Since they have waited long for this day to flow
But there is no one to see me
For those ‘colourful papers’ are now their only strive
I bent on my knees to touch the child
And gasped hard and said, “Ohh please forgive me now”
“And really, Spring I missed you so much”.