Childhood Poem by Ravikumar C.P.

Hindi Poem by Gulzar
Translated by C.P. Ravikumar


There was this thing,
Tiny and little
We called it childhood.
And in this childhood there was Father,
Truthful and good.
How lovely that binding stood!

There was this thing called childhood.

When flowers beckoned from atop a branch
Too tall for little hands to reach
The miracle of childhood
Provided two hands
To lift and enable the wondrous touch

There was this thing called childhood.

When walking along like this
Taking little steps
He disappeared somewhere along the way.
What remained in the closed tiny fist
Were the petals, now dry
But fragrant still
With the desire to live on.

There was this thing called childhood.

His voice is still on my lips.
And in my breath -
The self-confidence he passed on.
I might meet him some day
On some distant crossroad along my way.
He might ask me if I recollect
The memories of childhood,
Filled with dismay.