An Ancient Cane Basket. Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..

There a heritage home demolished
The members joined together
And partition deed planned altogether
Knowing well they can't join together
To fly away from the old nest
Where they breathed till puberty
Where they lived till the adulthood
And completed the studies for future job
The heritage home had wooden carvings
Ancient baskets of grandmas seen
But careless maintenance spoiled
With holes and insects eaten them
The precious thing of the past here
The costly silk and cotton clothes
The silver color boxes all kept
In the basket that woven in Bamboo
A precious and rare artifact it was
I saw the unknown face of a grandma
Smiles with little shameful face
She tells me that I kept my sandal paste
In a small silver box underneath of basket
You my little one trace out and take
And remember this poor great grandma
That gone for ever to heaven with pride.
As a man loved the village crafts
I imagined the hands of the craftsman
Or woman through which it made.
The good and careful selection of cane
To withstand the climate through years.