It is a piece of golden comfort
The buildings, three-storied,
old and lime-washed, are surrounded by trees.
Hulking guardian angels of the locality.
On Adenwalla Road outside,
taxis are parked around bends,
the drivers asleep on the boot.
Another road shimmers ahead,
dazzling like a river in the afternoon light.
My father and I are walking…
there is a sugarcane stall here,
the smell of beedi smoke…
How brightly this scene glows and glows!
The jingling of the crusher
still ringing in my ears.
The above poem is from my first book Reeling (2012).