The Seasons


As I lay down at night, and close my eyes,

And dream and think,

Of summer flowers, and honey bees that rise,

from the turning Earth and listen,

To the night breeze that whisper melodies.

 

As days go by, the blue of skies,

Turn grey with clouds, and the Nimbus roars,

When El Nino brings from distant shores,

And monsoon rains sweep distant plains…

 

This is a fragment of a beautiful poem (fragment because sadly enough the other half is lost…discovered this on a torn yellowed page) written by my grandfather for me when I was a kid. I inherited the love for books and writing from my grandparents, who would lovingly give me a  book to read on every visit. They would ask me how I felt about the story, whether I enjoyed reading the book, what did I like best about it: story or some character. They laid the bedrock for a love for literature that would become a passion and the foundation of my academics post school. Literature not only became a refuge in times of uncertainty and chaos, but it also helped me broaden the horizons of my thinking. Made me realize that its not about one door shutting and another one opening, or one door shutting and a window opening….but its about staying in a room with a door and a window which can be opened and shut as per your will and deeds. It’s about living infinite possibilities even when everything seems definite. I thank my grandfather for being the Google for me, when the world had not known one. And I thank my grandparents for giving me the present of a future, in the past of my childhood, knowing that it would hold me secure in times of need. 

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