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Thursday, April 29, 2010

Home is where the heart is.......

Home is where the heart is
And my heart is out roaming…..
On the pigeon’s wing that took flight from the balcony outside my room
To the small puddle of water that is staying on my street since a few days past
My heart is out roaming….
To that sandy beach and the sights of people, boats, colas, lollies and those down-trodden beaten old wooden rides
Sometimes sitting along with a child and screaming in joy
Some other moments a little coy, sharing the look of the beach couples
Home is where the heart is
And my heart is out roaming…..
To that spot on the sky where a lone cloud is drifting
I want to reach out and ask where its neighbours are gone today
My heart is out roaming…..
Moving out in search of those sights and smells that bring back the memories of childhood
The stories ma told at night and are now long-forgotten, hidden somewhere in the corners of my heart
That red tricycle that broke, or maybe I broke it, the one that baba had mended, just a smile on his face
My heart is out roaming…..
Drawn to those smells of my childhood winter,
When ma would mix the milk with the warm jaggery, running after me, glass in hand, my little legs running away
When baba would hand me a mug of coffee in later years, sitting down to chat, ma by my side
Those days when the sun would hurry home, fearing the onslaught of the cold,
Those afternoons when we would bring out the old string ‘chaarpai’ and place it in the verandah
To make it soak up some of the sun while we sat on it peeling and eating nuts
The evenings when the clothes on the clothesline outside would turn icy cold,
The dew having come to rest too soon already
Some days my heart is out roaming……
To those little dots I see on the sea out there, that I know is a boat, out on its turn to fish
Wanting to ask the fisherman who he is, to know what secrets the abundant water has shared……..
Secrets that are still unknown to us, maybe he knows
Some times my heart goes out roaming, crying…….
To that little four-legged person on the street, man’s best friend they say he is,
To see why it is that he is limping, and how old are these wounds and these marks of dried-up blood on his famished frame,
To know who could have been so heartless to hurt a loving creature so, an innocent…..
A beast they say he is, but has is it still managed to become so much a beast as are we?
Today my heart went out…..not roaming, but sad, disgusted, helpless…
To that tiny head bobbing outside my car window,
The one with a little ponytail, matted with dirt and sweat, the face covered in heat blisters
But that impish smile still lighting it up,
One hand holding a brother who is even younger, one hand holding flowers strung together,
She tells me I will look good in them, she tells me I should braid them in my hair, or take it to my ma
Where is ‘her’ ma I wonder… she the woman who sits on the other side of the road, watching?
Or is she not there anymore, not there to protect her little one, not there to stop her from growing up before she should……
Home is where the heart is and my heart is out roaming, wondering….
Did I really deserve to be ‘me’, or am I plain lucky???