There was nothing to disavow and disarray
About that boy whose name yet dipped all
In my secluded memory to re-call for a while.
Perhaps it was my dissonance to dissuade my mind
...
Wind is blowing
Over the hill
The wind is blowing
Over the bridge
...
We are children
We are happy
Happy in this world
But not so happier
...
My stagnant memory kept me close to the
Ambit of my village Mathra that I preferred
To call along with my name,
Which is familiar to all my friends
...
Lock and key
Went to the sea
To lock a boat
On a rock
...
Oh my mummy
Come here mummy
Look at those flowers
What a wonder!
...
Tomy is my dear dog
Tomy is my beautiful dog
Funny funny fatty dog
I call my dog little Tomy
...
Baby… baby
Sleep so well
In this smooth little cradle
Next morning
...
Roam… roam
In the butter street
And steal a
Butter cake
...