Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, yet to kick the bucket. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

As I am driven


As I am driven:

My shoes carry the dirt,
Of a million steps,
Memories imprinted,
On the streets of Mahuva.
The soils of past,
Mingled into my present.
Old people,
Dear souls,
Breezed through the coconut
Plantations,
Their likes peeping through,
Rays of sun,
Bathing me in moonlight,
Dripping as dew on my understanding,
Through the canopies of trees.
Leaves, green, golden,
Panaromic and pregnant,
With aromas of the kitchen,
Mangoes, skinned, juiced,
Pickles of time,
Tingling my taste of tasted times,
Rooted into the canals,
Of my mental teeth,
Where they first cut,
Gnawed,
And emerged from the gums,
Gleaming,
Crowing a hundred smiles,
My face housed,
Teeming with the light
From sun.
I did not drink mineral water,
I was thirsty,
I emptied the Malan River,
Along with her gurgle,
The birds that flew across her curved,
Both the storks and the ducks,
I still have a live sparrow,
Chirping in my belly.

Hardik Mahesh Vaidya
On my visit to Mahuva my birth town.

Submitted: Thursday, December 05, 2013

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