Nostalgic Meanderings....


Is there anyone who could refuse to
Reminisce their childhood and adolescence?
Is there any one who will never covet to graze
Through their past in their episodes of love
And remember the heart throbs of beloveds? .

Any one who will hesitate to sing a melody of love;
As they see the placid brooks and the tearful dreams
They saved in their hearts of those sunny moments?
Any one live in this earth who would not cherish
The realms of their youthful days...

My heart yearns to traverse through
Those good old days, and revel in those memories.
Is there anyone living in this earth who does not
Covet to immerse in those fond memories of those
Vibrant youthful days when life was fragrant
With love in the heart and the beloved was so close.
I will submit even my whole remnant birth
If I can recapture those sunny days back to me....

The soft shade of the old mango tree;
The corridors of my family house
Where all the household spent their
Life together in spree and unity;
Where honeydew drips from the tip of
The grass leaf in the early dawn,
And we drip them into our eyes to feel
The rapturous delight of the early morning chill.
Where at the banks of the running brooks
The toads crock courting their beloveds...
The fleeting rain embracing us in love and mirth,
And the shouts of joy while running after
An improvised paper ball in the rain..
When in the morning we imitate the cries
Of the *chakoram [Caccabis} from its bamboo nest;
And we turn to become Ace drivers of racing cars
Wheeling the old cycle rims through narrow alleys of the village...
And throw stones in the temple tank where the Water Lilly
Sways among the ripples in the morning thrill...

Watch half naked young girls sinking and
Bathing in the muddy waters of the river, after a rain;
Run after an elephant and beg the mahout to give us
A hair from the elephant's tail.. And.... And...

Writing the first love letter with three words 'I LOVE YOU'
To be given to the most beautiful girl in the class;
And the aftermath of such an insolence
f a VII Standard boy reported to the class teacher...
The bitter pain felt when detached from home and mother
When leaving for the city to study and join the college hostel..

Could all these golden moments ever come back
Into our life any time, any day.......

by kunjubi varghese

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