I.
back in days,
Revolutions were born - here!
like caterpillars, like butterflies
they crawled, they flew
from pati to kitchen
from guthi to the nation.
II.
“We are the witness!”
III.
And,
I am the witness.
I knew The People.
they whispered me their plans, their strategies
before they marched
to the gates of a man claiming to be God.
(to make him a commoner)
in other days,
I have heard their sighs,
and soaked their tears.
I have felt their hopes,
and tasted their victories.
I have nurtured
innocence of children
bravery of youth
and wisdom of the elderly.
I know.
‘the child is the father of the man’
IV.
Yes!
“I don’t like going to other places.
I like it – here -
I am happier.”
This is my second childhood.
as they say,
'a man becomes a child - twice’.
V.
in these days,
more than familiar ones I see new faces.
this crowd carries
different languages, different smells and
different tastes.
however,
each aftershock seems to bring us closer.
as it loosens my grip to the core
they bring ‘teka’ to support
and I offer my corners for shelter.
I know
in these days,
revolutions happen through a screen.
but please
before you leave
do not forget to tell the tales,
back in days,
‘I was not just a heritage’
I was where Revolutions were born.
I am where Revolutions are born!
[I wrote this picture poem for an exhibition 'Mero Chowk' organised by Ka Baata in 2016. I don't remember the photographer's name. Will update once I find out.]
