My Forgotten Ancestor

Waking up in the morning I bow my head before his Photograph where from he Never forgets to drop his Compassionate look Though twenty years have Passed since he left us Seems it was only yesterday I wept sitting on his lap I go back to the guava tree In our courtyard under which He used to sit with buckets Of water to take bath And wash his sacred thread The sun rose above The boundary walls and Fell on his face that did Not get a trace of withering After seventy years of hardship I look polished and smart In my ironed suits Inside the body the soul is rotten The time is running fast The train does not wait for no one Rat race is on No time to Wipe off the dusts Gathering on his photograph