Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
After nearly two decades I visit my village. The narrow road with twists and turns and bushes on both sides leads to my home.
The scratchy sound from the pulley of the village well and the smiles of my grandma still resonate as I pass by. Childhood days float like clouds: Plucking jujube, taking baths in the village pond crowded with weeds …the mud-walled school where I learned the basics, the frog-dancing with friends for the rain to fall, playing hide-and-seek in bare feet, sailing paper boat in potholes, worshipping the village goddess for peace, harmony and good health to prevail.
Oh! here I used to do my homework sitting under a kerosene lamp, and listening to stories of ‘King and Queen’ from my grandma under the summer stars.
Elders gossip with folded legs, sparrows whisper something from door to door and koel song cued the season of mango arrival!
Fled are those times, if e'er such times were seen,
When rustic poets praised their native
green;
No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse,
Their country's beauty or their nymphs'
rehearse;
On my way back, I try to catch the wind as I walk from my past to the crowded present.
twilight shade
memories bridge the gap
of the star-filled sky
Author’s Note: The title of the haibun is from the poem, ‘The Deserted Village’ by Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774).The stanza in italic is from the poem ‘The Village’ by George Crabbe (1754-1832).
Drifting Sands, Issue 21, 2023 (Ed Diana Webb)
https://drifting-sands-haibun.org/2023/05/30/where-humble-happiness-endeared-each-scene/
