Home

Home No language to describe- about the home I have left behind, the one that was mine till date, I saw all of a sudden one day It made me alien, isolated. Written on the old walls of the house Drawn by me were the unsymmetrical alphabets, Flowers and fruits that I drew there, Rivers and Streams, peacocks, parrots, butterflies, and many more tigers, bears, elephants, like a baby's writings you get there in the picture the thing you have craved for, Be it beautiful or not the kins around pat your back as a token of compliment for a elegant picture drawn. On the walls of the house imprints of my dirty palms pleased my kins But when I was estranged came far away into my world the walls were painted afresh. Our old tile-thatched house, Our home was changed. Our people, kith and kins bade me farewell with pomp and glory I prepared myself for a new abode, a new house A house of concrete roof, A house that I must onwards keep neat and clean always. But... I was frightened within, scared enough lest I should ever by mistake place there the imprint of my dirty hand. A poem by Bharati Nayak