Blowing of conch at wee hours
Rustling of dress on the stairs
Sweet flow of religious chant
In dipping eyes sleep plays truant
Grandma’s heart leaping high
As she winks at foes and friends
Her heavy feet go up to sky
A bundle of joy plays in her hands
A year has passed by so soon
When a bride came to her as a moon
From the world she can’t hide
Her joy as she lifts her grandchild
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A grandchild is a cause of great joy for the grandparents! It is strange that most people love their grandchildren more than their own children. It may be because they are more relaxed and have more time to be with the little ones and watch their pranks. A poem of tender love!