Nostalgia
I moved to Delhi in Nineteen Seventy Four
and lived on a ‘barsati ’ floor.
It was safe then to sleep on a summer’s night
on the terrace under the stars and moonlight.
Alas, not anymore!
You have to lock every door,
to keep out the danger that looms
outside your air cooled rooms.
Isn’t it a pity
what life has come to in a city?
No longer can you enjoy
sleeping on a ‘charpoy in the courtyard, balcony or terrace,
because of the rising terrorist menace.
I miss those evenings when after sunset,
we would sprinkle water on the brick floor till it was wet,
getting relief from heat
walking on it bare feet.
and climbing on the bed made of cool white sheets.
Quietly watching the stars and the moon,
and drift into a tranquil sleep soon,
to be woken up by the twitter of the birds in the morn
feeling fresh, renewed, reborn.
Alas, this claustrophobic life is what it has come to be,
in the concrete jungles that are our urban cities.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Added by Poetry Lover
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