The Old Folks Poem by Gayatri Phukan

The old folks
Sometimes
Puffs cigarettes
Sitting lazily on the porch
Sometimes
Watch the paddy spread in the sun
Across the courtyard
The old folks
Goes for a stroll
On urban mornings
Browses through the newspaper
Indulges oneself in facebook

The old folks talks about olden days
The great earthquake, tales of ghost
Hands over the diary of era of plenty
The words waft with the flavor of a story
On the verandah, in the kitchen
Even on the warm winter courtyard

The old folks visit the fields
To make the sky appear green
Reaching out to the udder of the cow
Pull out the milk for grandchildren
A cupful of yellowish tea boiled in milk
Is the old folks favourite
They keep waiting eagerly
For such a cup of tea.

The faces of grandchildren
Dances before the eyes of old folks
Their sweet voices
Makes them live longer
They count on their fingertips
Whether they'd live on to enjoy
The puberty attaining ritual of one
Or the marriage ceremony of the other

Many a families are run
By the pension amount drawn by the old folks
They weave dreams for their grandchildren
Shoves the green sky into their hands
Houses fields turn green
At the Midas touch of the old folks
The nooks of the streets and lanes of the country
Gets illuminated in their guided way
They pack the bundle of joy for the grandchildren
Everyday
Buy presents with the money saved frugally
They feel happy at the sight of plants full of yield
Planted by own hands.

The old folks with their grandchildren venturing outside
Wait eagerly for their return

Passing the days thus
The old folks
Depart one day
With the promise
Never to return
Spreading a mouthful of love
And a beaming ray of light.
- Gayatri Phukan
- Translated by Mr. Bibekananda Choudhury