A Village Fair

Poem By Natarajan Ramaseshan

Festoons of fresh leaves
flutter and utter a
warm welcome to the
annual village fair.

The stimulated air is
satiated with the
scintillating strains of the
nagaswaram.

The horses, cars and aeroplanes
of the squeaking merry-go-round
take the young ones for a ride
to the lands of dim
and distant dreams.

Hawkers, pedlars and sweet-meat vendors
have everything in their wares
to entice the rural folks
attending the fair.

Half baked quacks with assorted packs
offer herbal cure-all
for each and every hidden
and even unknown ailment.

The self-styled astrologer's parrot
steps out of its wooden cage-
shuffles, studies and then
selects suitable cards.

The snake-charmer, rope-walker
and folk dancers are all there.
They are part and parcel of
every village fair.

When darkness descends down,
the ancient temple bells
chime and announce the
evening pooja time.

The serene rays of
sublime oil lamps
smile spiritually.
And the sky mirrors them
as stars start their
eternal daily show.

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