On a visit to granny in the Doon valley
It was March and the tree full of Mulberries.
Red, purple teasing from far, fetched a cane basket
Joyfully picked one, ate some while birds created racket.
Felt nostalgic on seeing in a bucket in the market.
Lying on a bed of ice covered with a guaze net.
Hawker beckoned, explained, delicate spoil early.
Sweet and sour as girls like am told, juicy and healthy.
Came back home with a bagful, took out in a bowl.
My granny used to make jam; now I eat them whole.
No longer alive; her toothless smile, bed time stories,
Ruddy wrinkled face, warm embrace, etched in memories...
Beautiful memories of your past come flooding with at the sight of the memorabilia of mulberries.....nice write! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Yeah mamta, memories are memories; what can one do of them? ? ? .....vo kagaz ki kashti vo baarish ka paani.....! Excellent creation, dear! ! !
toothless wrinkled beauty of the heart that love...every household has a reciepe handed down from the older generation..it gives us a chance to think of them...lovely memories..well written
I'm continously amazed at the felicity of your writes, their sure sense of progression and the way they are rounded off. This write evokes a wistful yearning for the old world charm without being hysterically sentimental about it.Very finely nuanced and delicately etched.
The visuals you describe are always so lively. You take us for a while into your world with your word play. It is always an experience reading your poetry Mamtaji.
Mamtaji, Thank you for sharing the beautiful sweet sour memories of Granny and Mulberries. CP
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this shows how you loved your granny so much...loved the poetic story...10