Opening my eyes to the winter sun,
My mind wandered into my childhood fun.
Rising to the sound of morning devotional songs,
The silence went to the dark place to where it belongs.
It reminds me of the morning ‘Fajr’ I used to hear,
Making it a ritual of my exam time in the year.
The silence makes way for every little sound,
Which otherwise is cast away for more prominent grounds.
I still remember the ‘ferry -wala’ selling the huge pile of peanuts for mere 5 or 10 bucks,
And making a livelihood out of people’s happiness was his whole crux.
Today is the era of the packaged peanuts,
Drifting us all away and bringing distance between us.
Mostly the evenings were to sit in a room with the warm heater,
Chatting away with the talks sweet and memories sweeter.
It was an era of eating ‘bajre ki roti and gur’ from each other’s plate,
Nobody worrying about the stupid weight.
Tucking under the heavy cotton quilts to ward away the chill,
We chattered our teeth and found difficult to be still.
Those were the days we all remembered as fondest of our memories,
Reminiscing our past with some beautiful energies.
I miss those winter mornings where my childhood is lying,
Making me yearn to go back in time sighing.
Today the mornings are similar but with lot of difference,
Having similar happenings but without any innocence.
Wish to show a clear picture to our children,
Where they can be proud of our heritage.