Thursday, August 14, 2008


Sunny smiles and coffee cups
Purple wild flowers along winding roads
Hot pakoras with steaming tea
And a practising mouth organ from an inner room

Flip flops and shorts cursing the muck
Wet faces in raincoat hoods drinking
Tear drops from trees
While we help to make the evening meal,
A sing-along in raucous chorus

Grandpa's chair lies empty in the balcao
No one can take his place
We remember, never miss
Futile attempt: bringing back the dead
The laughter shows they never were

Feni? Of course. One kop will do you good
Fresh stock vs seasoned smells
The debate goes on
Just like the one about politicians
Badkars and mundkars

Of green fields and open spaces
Tree-lined roads and happy faces
A reminiscent trip into the past
The circle of life; an abyssmal fate
Once again, it's far too late.


Reine de mots said...

beautiful piece:)

Dielle said...

Thank you!

Marise said...

You were born in Goa and I am glad its effect will never leave you. Oh I am so glad - DAD