The Memory

The poem in a nutshell

This poem has been composed in a trance of recollection. We all are learners throughout our entire life, no matter whoever we are and how old we are. Life itself is nothing but a book. We all are learners as well as teachers. Hence, we should have an obedient heart to learn from all and sundry.

 

The poem – “The Memory”

The azure vernal sky

Is now cloud-laden.

O hear! The roar of

The thunder stirs me up

With the sudden memory

Of the tête-à-tête

Between last evening’s

Bus-conductor and me.

 

I boarded the running bus;

He took me up into the vehicle;

Right then, the earthen cup

Overbrimm’d with tea,

Hot tea with sugar

Got spilt onto his hand.

 

“Sorry, Uncle,” I said,

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his hand.

The matter was dropped.

 

A little while after,

He came to me for

Taking the fare;

I was a bit scared.

Then he looked up

With a pair of

Glistening eyes, and said,

“Why do you take such

Risks, my child?

Had you hurt yourself,

Your parents must worry.”

I returned again,

“Are you not hurt?”

“People like me never

Get hurts or wounds.”

 

In abject amazement,

I gazed and gazed,

Until hot tears kept

Rolling down my cheeks.

 

The sky is now clear

Again, but I see

A number of puddles

Here and there now.