Hardik Vaidya (26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)
That's the name of a firm.
Where my dad got his first squirm.
His first job, his first hope, his first ray, to be a man and grey.
He used to drive on his Java 2 wheeler, from Khar west or Ville Parla to Thana.
He got a measly pay.
I guess he started with something which can't fetch our today.
When he got his first pay,
I am ttold he walked in with deserved pride,
Eyes brimming with generations of delight,
A heart full of thanks for all our undeserving fore fathers, dunno what happened to mothers.
And for my deserving grand mother and my loving grand father,
His siblings his little sisters, his lone littler brother,
He cried aloud, sweets I have, these are only I could buy,
Lets gorge in them, as the sky is blue, and thanks to you,
My blood is red, my values stead,
Feast, on the meagre,
My heart is as large as the ocean, on whose shores you have not wandered,
I wish I were alive, peeping from the hole of time,
Seeing his sparkling eyes,
And telling him dad be mine.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (T Manecklal by Hardik Vaidya )
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