–
The below is a first person account of a village tree who lost the friendship of a small boy to the big charm of the city..
–
At day break, I wait for your shrill cries of laughter to pierce my ears..
I ponder while I drink the primary cocktail,
a gleaming red sun, the blue sky and the green field..
The train passes by mocking at me.. It’s whistle..
tells me a story of how you disappeared in the dark of the night..
I tell him, you and I are friends.. And that we are inseparable..
I decide to wait.. longing for a glimpse of
the farmer, the cart, the buffalo, a nursing mother,
the sounds of the mud vessels, the village gossip..
My afternoon in the tedium,
I stare at the vast earth in front of me..
An old man rests, but no tractors cough nearby..
I look down, the chalk from the hopscotch has washed away..
My feet that had endured the charcoal from the bonfire..
have grown weeds..
I stand still to hear the harvest celebrations.. I hear none,
then I know,
it is just not going to be the same without you..
In time my leaves will go away, I will wither and die,
But for now, they promise to come back next spring..
To be dressed up in green and to dance on my arms..
My brothers have all perished and caused a crying flood..
Just as they were,
I will be parted and uprooted from my earth..
The wind picks up my anxiety, her embrace is wild and warm..
As it runs through my branches, I feel strangely lovely..
‘C’est la vie my dear’, she says and smiles..
So, just for the rock record, let me tell you,
I love you and I miss you.
And wherever life has taken you, I only wish you the best..
And if you ever choose to come back,
and I am still standing,
I won’t spend your money and some, my friend, and there isn’t the worry of a rush hour..
–
2010: For the next four decades, every minute, 31 Indians will arrive in an Indian city like Mumbai for the lure of its big city charm.
2012: According to data from the Housing Assistance Council (HAC), only about 21 percent of Americans live in rural areas.
Picture Credit: Timo from morning hour
– 0 –
About The Article Author:
Our mission with FutureSTRONG Academy – to grow children who respect themselves, their time and their capabilities in a world where distractions are just a click or a swipe away.
I see myself as an advocate for bringing social, emotional and character development to families, schools and communities. I never want to let this idea out of my sight – Our children are not just GPAs. I’m a Writer and a Certified Master Coach in NLP and CBT. Until 2017, I was also a Big Data Scientist. In December of 2044, I hope to win the Nobel. Namasté.
Write to me or call me. Tell me what support from me looks like.
Rachana Nadella-Somayajula,
Program Director & Essential Life Skills Coach for Kids and Busy Parents
Poetry
Dear Sons: Full Disclosure
- A life's worth of choices. Subjected to, day in, day out.Freedom of expression. Empathy exercises. Vulnerability followed by weakness. Protection from cold. Letting the homeless die from it. Health of the children. Love. A gentle kind word. People who didn't...
Now – A Poem on Time
- Of all the things I have and can desire to have, my time on this earth, and the time my kids will have of mine is finite. I am mindful of that. What I am also painfully mindful is that I do not choose well how I spend it. As an adult, time and the freedom to...
Child Bearers of the World – What Remains – A Poem by Rachana
- A Poem on Loneliness, Loss, Survival, and Inheritance. - Distracted mothers create loneliness.Those children celebrate uncertainty.And out of the imperfect first steps,They quickly learn, no love is earnest. Fathers cry when planes disappear.Worlds unite to search...
Tea Rings – A Poem by Rachana
Listen To The Article:- There is the love of mother that needs no senses to feel its expression.And, that’s where I begin my journey of this life with you. In that vintage picture, I think of how you became a woman coming of age.Wounds of the uprooting I...
Temples in Our Hearts – A Poem by Rachana
- While others make smoldering burial grounds in memory,those who have never made promises to make us laughbuild their own temples in our hearts. Stories that don’t need our mother’s tongue at all,are these secret wishes that transcend cultures and...
Retribution?!?!
* If I knocked on your door for a cup of waterfor my parched throat,Would you be able to tell,I am not your next door neighbor..? If not, then, why this thirst for my life.. ???? * Near these foothills,of some of the world's coldest mountains..I...
I Can Muse a Poem
- The mother inside of me finds no shortage of spontaneity and wit.I can be surprisingly superfluous when I am lecturing my child. Trouble arrives when I call myself a writer, and that’s when I get deliberate.When I dictate myself to the writer’s rigor,...
Pathos.. A Poem On Caring For The Elderly
- The mornings hang here, until..I peek out of the window andhurry out of the house for the next door.. Determined to find an answer..I gently turn the key andpush myself into the hallway.. Moving past discolored leaves and curtains..I pass them, a lot of...
Homs and The Uncharismatic Sociopath..
- - For anyone not in need of soul searching or a mirror.. Here is the gist of the mother's letter.. - Assad.. It is tough for me to think of you as a product of a biochemical blissful event, a distinct moment in time.. Should I have sniffed the...
The Wishing Well and an Empty Tummy – A Poem by Rachana
- - I call my boss and tell him,I won't be in until late.Over a crisp morning coffee I work out logistics. I plot the distance between school and home.. 500 yards..I aim for taking cover.While setting up my equipment at hand's reach, I caution my...
Osama, Hermit You Are Not
- D*** Osama, Even in this 21st century, with super fast technology, it took me a while to get in touch with you, and it has been partly because of your tight security and lack of information on the internet on where you are hiding, er, living. It has been a...
Like a Dry Flower in My Diary
- She would rise andshine with me.. She would part with anything for methat I loved or desired.. Today, she might be a woman,but just between us, there is no time travel.. Her gentle, sweet,kind spirit wasn't a match for my boisterous self.. But my partner in...
Questions, just ask!
Text or Call: 678.310.5025 | Contact: Fill Form
Bringing a Group? Email us for a special price!
Trackbacks/Pingbacks