The old man twitched his brow,
Blasting music, jarring his ears,
Endurance threatened, he rose from his armchair,
Dragging weary limbs, he staggered away.
His grandson in cargo jeans,
Gyrated and swivelled to the jazz,
Drumming beats drove him crazy,
His waist swayed in rollicking jig.
To ease his growing annoyance,
Withdrew the oldster to his solitary space,
His eyes, searching for his betel box,
Tucked away under his grubby cot.
Groping in dark, he looked high and low,
And in every nook of his dingy room,
His shocking gaze soon espied,
His betel box freshly polished.
A flash of terror beat across his soul,
No more value than an antique piece!
His betel box – made a show piece.
What would he be – a shock piece?
or a mock piece? !
The old man closed his eyes,
His hands folded in ardent prayer.
His lips parted feebly in a whisper,
“Hare Ram! Hare Krishna….
Hare…..”
To get a grip on his losing self, Withdrew the oldster to his solitary space, THIS SEEMS to have a very peculiar arrangement of words, but i did not say it was in error, AND i like it very much. yes, exactly; will I TOO be a shock piece or a mock piece OR will i be a rock-around-the-clock piece? what do YOU think, Valsa? thanks for sharing. :) bri
Dear Bri This was one of my earliest poems written at a time when I had been so naive(?) rather in experienced in the art of writing verse! Now when I read it, I feel, as you have pointed out, that line is with 'a peculiar arrangement of words'! (to have put it in polished terms) Yea, it sounds a little odd. I respect your sentiment and is going to edit it as 'To ease his growing annoyance'/ Withdrew the oldster to his solitary space. I wonder as an alien to Indian culture, how well you have understood the poem! The older generation here is averse to Western jazz music where as the youngsters are avowed votaries of Jazz! The oldsters have the habit of chewing betel leaves especially when they feel bored or lonely! The betel leaves with a little lime and arecanut are usually kept in an ornamental brass box. Now this habit has become almost obsolete that betel boxes are turned into prized antiques! Thanks for your comment and indirect hint at improvement!
Oh, you have portrayed a picture from a different perspective on the same theme though, poignantly and dramatically too. I can visualize the whole scene like a drama.
I loved this poem and so I have rated it with top marks, as most of your poems get from me. I particularly appreciate your rich stock of words. I haven't seen such richness as yours among the contemporary sub continental English poets.
The generation gap aptly and truthfully portrayed. I am a young grandfather of two, yet not accustomed to pan (betel leaf) chewing, yet not averse to band music, though I do have a natural inclination towards soft music and melodious songs. But even then my six year old granddaughter thinks, I do not understand many of the modern things that she does. I heartily do agree to that! :)
You have very keenly observed the old man and you have felt the changing emotion. His lips parted feebly in a whisper, “Hare Ram! Hare Krishna…The saddest moment is felt with his closing of eyes. The witness of generation gap is wonderfully captured. This poem gives deep emotion...10++
His grandson in cargo jeans, Gyrated and swivelled to the jazz, Drumming beats drove him crazy, His waist swayed in rollicking jig.......You have brilliantly unfolded the fact! Thanks dear madam for sharing...10
The old man closed his eyes. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am surprised when and how you see me and described me in your poem. Yes I am a lover of betel with chewing tobacco.