Akin to the Hindi poem, I had written this one some time ago. For the sake of a record, I put it here on my blog. The title is surely more promising than the poem. The title was given to us and I wrote the poem. So, the disparity is expected! Doyens would argue whether this piece is a poem. Certainly they are right! Besides, I'm sure the poem will not appeal to many because it is too personal. Where the shoe pinches is known by the one who wears it! In this case, the one who writes it :)
The present of today: the one for which I'd craved.
The presents lost to earn it, Alas! I wish I'd saved.
All because of that crook: that salesman with the scheme of exchange.
So readily I accepted the gold; gold I did not gain, gold I did estrange!
The estranged gold is intangible now; A myth; a dream that never was fulfilled.
Reality check tells me, ever in a Utopian state is anyone grilled?
Vermicelli was the order of the day when Eid was around.
This, an unkept promise: the world keeps this Hindu adult bound.
The warmth of my mumma's heart: that it will last eternal.
With her no more around, is a fake, a promise so mortal!
I'll show the Ambanis what it means to be together.
A promise I myself couldn't keep, as love wilted in hatred - weather!
Ignorance is bliss, they say, yet knowledge is what I did seek,
Is that indeed the reason,why everything now seems so bleak?
It has been very long since the last day I slept.
Although transitory, Childhood is a promise that is never kept!
The present of today: the one for which I'd craved.
The presents lost to earn it, Alas! I wish I'd saved.
All because of that crook: that salesman with the scheme of exchange.
So readily I accepted the gold; gold I did not gain, gold I did estrange!
The estranged gold is intangible now; A myth; a dream that never was fulfilled.
Reality check tells me, ever in a Utopian state is anyone grilled?
Vermicelli was the order of the day when Eid was around.
This, an unkept promise: the world keeps this Hindu adult bound.
The warmth of my mumma's heart: that it will last eternal.
With her no more around, is a fake, a promise so mortal!
I'll show the Ambanis what it means to be together.
A promise I myself couldn't keep, as love wilted in hatred - weather!
Ignorance is bliss, they say, yet knowledge is what I did seek,
Is that indeed the reason,why everything now seems so bleak?
It has been very long since the last day I slept.
Although transitory, Childhood is a promise that is never kept!
I am the original author of this quote. I posted it to a Newsnet quotation group back in the nineties. It is often attributed to Ken Hill the British composer, but it was actually first posted by Ken Hill, the Canadian child psychologist; I.e., me.
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