I moved to Delhi in Nineteen Seventy Four
and lived on a ‘barsati ’ floor.
It was safe then to sleep on a summer’s night
on the terrace under the stars and moonlight.
Alas, not anymore!
You have to lock every door,
to keep out the danger that looms
outside your air cooled rooms.
Isn’t it a pity
what life has come to in a city?
No longer can you enjoy
sleeping on a ‘charpoy in the courtyard, balcony or terrace,
because of the rising terrorist menace.
I miss those evenings when after sunset,
we would sprinkle water on the brick floor till it was wet,
getting relief from heat
walking on it bare feet.
and climbing on the bed made of cool white sheets.
Quietly watching the stars and the moon,
and drift into a tranquil sleep soon,
to be woken up by the twitter of the birds in the morn
feeling fresh, renewed, reborn.
Alas, this claustrophobic life is what it has come to be,
in the concrete jungles that are our urban cities.
Yes agree with David. A brilliant poem bringing out all that has changed but remains at the back of our minds. I remember when the whole family used to sleep out in the open in the Cantonment Bungalow, white sheets sprinkled with water, and the sheer exhiliration on feeling the coolness of the bed on a hot summer night. I am nostalgic, Mamta.
Mamta, this is brilliant, you have caught the mood so well of todays society. I remember years ago here in England when people used to keep the front door key on a string behind the letterbox. Unfortunately times have changed and those days are no more. Now you are never sure whether to go out after dark for fear of being harmed in someway. A brilliant and expressive poem. Top marks and thanks for sharing it my friend. David
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nostalgia is always a great force behind good poetry. You have created a timelorn poem. Best Regards Sameer