Park Poem Poem by Ananta Madhavan

There were trees in our park,
Some tall and shady, some old and withered,
Some were felled branch by branch by felons.

One tree has survived; a loner, densely leaved.
When this plant began its worldly life decades ago,
It must have crept along the ground a meter or more,
Perhaps in quest of sunlight, before ascending.
It aspired high, but reached its peak,
A stunted dwarf of vegetation above a cement bench.

February signals summer after Pongal,
Festival of harvests, marker of turning time:
The sun moves southward to the other tropic.

Our evening walk brings out cotton prints
Instead of cardigans and shawls; we see
Brighter hues and patterned prints
Of paisley and geometric designs,
Tight jeans, both part faded and dark.

Scarce flowering trees will soon sport
A lush flamboyance in pink, red and yellow.
Cute kids at play redeem the hard-luck days;
Staunch joggers thread through amblers
And oldsters stride around the pathway;
Old acquaintances show how spry they are,
Racing past us. I wish some folks did not
‘Talk the Walk' or carry cell-phones
And raucous music in their trouser pockets.
Silence is the tonic to the soul, or soft melodies.

The sun slides down, its shafted beams
Target our eyes along the southern stretch;
But now the sun is waning into dusk.
Another day ahead. The same old tale or
Is there is a twist in the plot? May all of us prosper.

As an old Tamil classic has said:
"Every town is our home town,
Every man a kinsman."
- - - - - - -


The Tamil anthology, 'Puranaanooru', referred to at the end,
belongs to circa 300 B.C.



11 February,2015