Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
The Man We Loved. - Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..
There I have the experience of an old man
Who were walking long distances
Where he opted walking in bare foots
Almost throughout the rainy days
He walked along the hilly land
An umbrella always missing in hand
He was the friend of nature, the sun
The rain, forest, honeybees,
And the wild rabbits which stood near him
They enjoyed his presence and never escaped
The wore little clothes barest minimum
In his hand there he kept a stick always
To keep the ways in order and remove obstacles
Not to harm the species of the forests
He knew well the water sources of forest
He kept them clean in his own efforts
In moonlight his presence was there
In the open place of the little hut
The thatched roof and specially maintained
And an ordinary coat he himself made
The man sung the songs of the wild
The life of the departed souls of predecessors
The drum beating sounds in distance heard
We were assuming the hands behind the drums
A great man though illiterate, the natural human.
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