Posted by: Pucadyil | February 12, 2010


Bopal, when we came here many years back
was a sleepy village, in the middle of nowhere.
A winding mud track passed for road,
raising dust as camel carts passed

far from the city and crowds we detested;
idyllic, cried my wife, children said just!
friends said we would be lost to the world
in this barren patch which we called home

building the house was like chasing a dream
tempering desire, keeping fancy on leash
rising brick by brick, adding lintel and roof
finally done, perfect to my undemanding self

on a clear morning we could see forever
the towers of the distant city shimmering in the east
in winter the morning haze was a cocoon
hiding us from the world and its worries

with time the barren earth became a garden
and the verdant lawn played with speckled sunlight
flowers nodded to the passing wind
and the house slowly turned into home

Sitting by the garden in the gloom of the dusk
I reflect on the change that Bopal has seen
no longer the distant nowhere, bursting with life
nesting by the city which is restless in its growth


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