My Lovely Village

Years later
I had gone to my village,
my sweet village
my feet could easily feel
the familiar innocence
of those lanes and bylanes
taking me to my little home
that even in its deserted state
looked so homely
I found the same self again…

My marigold and chrysanthemum

plants grumbled
with their withering flowers
why I had not caressed them
for so long,
mango blackberry and guava trees
sprang to life
when I hugged them once again,
I could easily see
some tear drops bubbling
in the water of that little pond…

I also met my farmer brethren
amidst the lush green fields
in their verdant abundance
and I started taking a trip
down memory lane
I was back in my teens*
tears trickled down my cheeks
that got accompanied
by droplets of the drizzling rain
leaving a pleasant, dewy petrichor…

*PS– a teen means Kishore in Hindi

–Kaushal Kishore