When we were young, energetic, full of life,
On Saturday mornings, we were at Colaba
At our granny’s house, with uncles, aunts, nieces,
Stretching ourselves at the beaches,
Swimming in the Back bay waters,
Eating mangoes, basking in the sun,
Playing with shells, stones, pebbles, gun.
Sometimes, burying ourselves in the sand,
Remaining there for a long time,
With only our heads popping out for fun!
Noon time, there were afternoon siestas,
Dead tired after watching on telly fiestas,
Now, when clock strikes 5.p.m,
We have hot cups of coffee
With spicy cutlets, crispy nuggets
To pamper our greedy pallets.
By evenings, we get ready
To trot to Eros Theatre steady,
Screening Marx Bros., Laurel and Hardy,
Or slapstick comedy of Dean/Martin, Jerry/Lewis,
A laugh riot of our times gone by,
Till tears fall off our eyes!
At nightfall’s, we had wooden cots,
Laid out under Papal Trees and flower pots,
With the cool evening breeze blowing
Hearing fairy tales from granny at bed time
And falling asleep like a log!
Oh! Those were the days gone by,
Waking up one fine morning,
From a soft bed into a luminous sunlight,
Feeling warm, well fed, well loved,
Well cared for a hug and longing,
Peace, silence, stillness, bliss,
Will those nostalgic days ever commeth?
__The End__
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