A Visit To A Former Home

I visited a place today,

it used be my home, where I spent years of misery & joy,

my family moved from there long ago,

but I had never been able to let those memories go.

 

The guava tree is nowhere to be seen,

I still remember that tree was so mean,

no branch ever broke when someone else stepped upon,

while my legs and arms were always left swollen.

 

It's true I hated it,

I think it too didn't like me a bit,

but it was always forgiven,

the sweet guavas had to be eaten.

 

I straighten my back,

the new owner's name is written beside the gate in black,

I recite the lines in my mind,

& wonder if these Gupta will be kind?

 

I knock on the door,

a lady comes out, I began in candor,

"You must be Mrs. Gupta, I'm sure," I say,

she thinks I'm a salesgirl and tries to shoo me away.

 

I tell her that is not the case,

I am a former resident of this place,

I've come for a visit,

I promised her an early exit.

 

The lady grew suspicious,

she thought my intentions were vicious,

She might think I'm a crook, not a sales girl,

I tried to offer her an explanation that seemed rational.

 

Fools are they who say,

A fine dress can get you anywhere in society,

My entry in the house was not due to Prada or Gucci,

but due to all my begging & her pity.

 

At last, I was taken inside,

(was the dining room really this wide?)

the lady stood around me like a guard,

in case I tried to steal something at the speed of a pard.

 

I looked at the drawing room wall,

Neither I saw impression of the muddy football,

nor I could see "My Home" written with a crayon,

on the walls were now boring paintings, which triggered a yawn.

 

Then I went to my former room,

which was now just another bedroom,

how did they raise their children with so much caution,

the walls, the room showed no sign of any child-like authentic creation.

 

The bed, the table are not where they used to be,

even the paint had changed from pink to green,

I look at the Commando behind me in fear,

who should be more afraid? Me or her?

 

Through the window I looked outside,

I did not see the garden of which my mother boasted with pride,

I saw an elderly stooped version of the trees,

the place gave no familiar feel but unease.

 

I did not wish to see the kitchen,

But I did by mistake saw the place of their religion,

an idol of Lord Ganesha sat cooped up in a corner,

the presence of holy figure couldn't make the place any warmer.

 

The watch woman stiffened,

my pace quickened,

I jogged to the other 2 bedrooms,

they also radiated nothing but gloom.

 

I didn't delay my stay,

I ran out of my enemy's territory,

At the border, soldier smiled,

she turned friendly from hostile.

 

"It was nice having you here for a while," she said,

"It felt nice too," I honestly lied,

It was nice, not inside but outside,

I walked away & sighed.

 

I looked back for the last time,

I had visited not my home but a place of crime,

Maybe it was my family which made this house pleasant,

It was "My Home" in the past not present.

 

I must restrain from going to my other former homes,

This place had felt like survivig a storm,

In my home, I lay on my bed & thought,

"Never put yourself through another similar test."