'Semiya', My Pride. Poem by Tajudeen Shah

A tiny wooden boat was
My asset that would sink
If exceeded the weigh of
Myself, around kilos fifty,
When I was aged sixty.
One warm hearth fed on
Coconut and rice husks,
A sand-pot full of ‘Semiya'
Made of rice flakes, yellow sugar,
Cardamom, nuts, milk, cumin,
Cinnamon leaves, dry ginger,
Water and a pint of salt; that
Made my ‘Semiya' sweeter still.

Had four old glass cups
To feed those who would wait
With craving taste buds by
The shady backwater banks
As a routine, for my narrow
‘Sweet-bowl', to appear dancing
On the swollen dark green waves!

Their hope-lines were thinner
Than their fishing lines, but
Invariably enjoyed my treat,
Paying the small coins in return,
Sometimes, more, often less.
I fed generations, some turned
Stars, some waiting voyage,
Most still hold the glass up
Above their open mouth for
The last dropp to ooze and fall
On their giggling tongues!

My recipe was my course,
The research, theses, marks,
Awards and references that
In 45 years long sweet-serving
Never had any regret, nor my
Long array of village faces
Ever had scowls of any sort.

Now I wonder, with such a
Paltry income, how could I
Manage the marriages of all
My daughters, and a small
Shop for my heedless son!

Life has always been intact,
Though my tiny boat had often
Broken by startling tides!
Thanks to God, the merciful,
All ended well with me, but
Children today work long hours
And make a heap of winnings,
But without any natural sweetness,
Either in flesh or in soul!
Their delights are strained,
Temples full of swollen veins!