I was young
When to Kaancha I handed
the ragged ball
At the joy of going to the city.
At night
from my village far
Very far
Balls of electricity
Winking….winking could be seen
From the front yard of my home
As if in a vast lake
sky in rich spangles
Is having its reflection.
I would let
The fragrance of my imagination
Hover Bijanbari than among the stars.
The stars must have felt discriminated
Dev Patel celebrates India from his Los Angeles front yard
But I had listened more about the cites
Than the stars.
Night after night,
The city burgeoned upwards the landscape; making bland
The entertainment of my plays.
I left counting stars and started
counting the newly erected bulbs,
The tranquility of my village felt like deathly silence.
The tamed elephants and rhinos
Destroying boulders; ancient woods
and taking to cities,
enthralled me more than
the smilingly forgiving flowers
Crushed steps after steps.
I had listened
The biscuits and orange-sweets
brought by my mother
from Chaturre Bazaar
Are created in cities.
All these, after seeing and listening
Blindfolded I dived into the city
But no sooner I came here
City made me operate irons
Till today
Ironing my rainbow dreams to meet the stars
I’m charged with chores
To prepare someone for schools and offices.
Every morning, sweeping house colossal as Mahaveer I search in the rubbish
my crumpled hopes hoping to find.
The wrappers of sweets as many
the leaves and fodders in villages
But not a wrapper is fallen from my hand.
Today in city
cleaning robots and dolls
I dream to play with robots and dolls.
Safe are the desires to be befriended
With dolls and robots.
For a person like me
The pomegranates of this garden too
Is a rubber gimmick arrayed in the showcase of a living room.
Therefore today
I again wish to see cities from my village
Rolling a boulder bigger than me
Sewing the torn frock with the patches of dirt,
I wish to smile the smile of my being
City is seen fairyland only from my village
Why from this sky kissing houses and buildings
can I not see
My village home?
