Nostalgia

Someone has deceased 

in the neighbourhood. 

Whether it's an elderly person 

who lived life to the fullest; 

or a middle-aged one 

forced to abandon responsibilities, 

thanks to fate; 

or one still young and full of dreams, 

wishing for a better tomorrow; 

or a child who had not even comprehended

what life is, 

I cannot ascertain. 

I can hear 

the piercing sound of the conch-shell 

and the heavy clang of the wooden beater 

on a metal plate - 

sounds from the funeral procession. 

The mind works non-stop,  

albeit in strange ways. 

Some synapses work in synergy 

and transport me to a time 

when life was easier. 

The piercing sound and 

the metallic clang 

conjure a 15-year old memory - 

one involving my ex-neighbour, 

one filled with the insouciance of childhood, 

one that revolves around our reproduction of funeral sounds. 

An onomatopoeic memory.  

The 10-year old me and  

the 7-year old ex-neighbour 

say hi in my mind's eye, 

galloping around carefree, 

shouting "Cooooo... Ding, ding, ding 

Ding, ding, ding....." 

I smile briefly, 

come back to the present, and 

THEN pray that the departed soul 

rests in peace.  

How inappropriate! 

To AVMR With Love

The stars my teacher gave me
For the high marks I scored,
The names my friends gave me
For my antics,
The numerous quarrels with my classmates,
The numerous doodles in my class notes.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The sandwiches we made on Saturdays,
The Bhajans we sang on Thursdays,
The Quran verse we recited on Fridays,
The good old speeches we gave on birthdays.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The computer games we played in the mornings,
The 'violent' games we played in the breaks,
The instruments we played in functions,
The pranks we played on friends.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The 'poetry' WE sang on the stage,
The crushes we harboured in that age,
The words we uttered in a rage,
The rabbits that were kept in a cage.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The camps we Scouts and Guides attended,
The songs 'the three of us' invented,
The first rank for which we contented, and
The various things on which we commented.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The medals I never won,
The books I always won,
The unmatchable, great fun,
The crazy things we all had done.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

I'm what I'm because of our school,
Where freedom was always the primary rule.
Our teachers' motivation that served as a fuel,
Now make my tears form a pool.
I miss those days.
They bring a smile to my face,
We may go in our own ways,
Still we're the beautiful flowers of a beautiful vase.