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| Courtesy: Tai-Wiki-Widbee blog |
Let me tell you how I was then.
Gan is where I was born.
Things happened to be seldom then.
Though no cars and motorbikes then,
I owned an old bicycle rim,
Propelled by a stick which is thin.
Though a game for many,
Hoop rolling and trundling,
More than an ancient game for me.
Though no cars and motorbikes then,
I owned a large rotating disk like lid of a can,
Pivoted at its centre by a stick long and thin.
I pushed and bowled as hard as I could,
For I was the engine that ran,
Both the lid and the rim.
As odd as it sounds,
Good and satisfied as if a ride,
Was what i felt then.
Fast and furious were the changes.
Rim and lid-a scene in the past.
Cars and motorbikes seldom glimpsed.
Though not chirpy and music to the ears,
Roaring engines with hissing tires that spinned,
Drove me as if for a melody distant.
For the smell of burning fuel with dust.
A smell as sweet as musk.
A scene as good as a dusk.
Though odd and dangerous,
I smelt the trails on my knees,
As if a flower that blossomed.
How odd and monotonous it sounds,
Though fun and craziness is what it reminds,
This is a part of my childhood that remains.