Long ago, it was under an umbrella on a rainy morning,
With my sweet sweet grand-ma, my first journey,
To the kindergarten, just a few, few miles away,
My grand-ma, holding me close to her chest.
Hai, the kindergarten, the kids, all budding roses,
Teachers, all caring, personifications of maternal love,
No cradles, no lullabies, but nursery rhymes echo the walls,
“Rain rain go away, come again another day, little Johnny wants to play”.
My grand-ma, like her lullabies, now a sweet memory.
No kindergarten, a sky-scraper to echoe the horns of motor carts.
My mind too a weary desert, sans clouds, sans rain, sans dew-drops,
My hamlet now a metro, here men and wheels too in rush.
All in a sudden, like a day-dream at this lazy-noon,
The sky churning with dark clouds, oh great!
A hurricane or reclamation of my golden child-hood memories ???
These clouds showering deep to my green pastures.
That old sweet nursery rhyme, my lips whisper not,
But clamor, “Oh! rain, Oh !rain, come, come again this way “.
“Come down, come down, come down shower upon me “.
Each drop in me you shower, not rain, but sweet nostalgic melody,
Or an ocean of ecstatic rhymes of piercing memorabilia !!!.