In a small town, life is fair. Fireflies take their magical flight, through my Grandpa’s gate that joyously greets everyone! Small town, where I grew my little heart...the stars glitter over hill tops, and breeze blows over tamarind trees, its dried seeds twinkles like anklets, the silver river gently flows by. In solitude I close the wooden door. I rather be here than anywhere else!
In a small town there’s nothing to despair. Deprived of shopping malls and branded outlets, no huge billboards with pictures advertising products or the streets dressed up and glittering in neon lights, yet it’s a place where people are warm and surely always return your call. Sharing and caring is the way of life, simple and happy in sync with time. People are nice and humble to help, social gatherings spontaneous and merry, uncles and aunts sing to the tune of their youth gone by, flirting eyes meets the love they blossomed for long...going strong on the promises of “I DO”.
There's a rhythm to a small town, a slow care-free, easy beat, all day long it plays its song, then at night lulls folks to sleep. Small towns always wake at dawn for they sleep so well by night. Lullabied by nightingales and simple dreams, with grateful hearts for the day gone by. Then waked by roosters at first light, to begin the day on a happy note! Bees buzz and crickets chirp. Old pick-up trucks shifts gears... tiny songbirds can be heard, and a small baby’s coo and tears. The echoes of the children’s laughter, the sound from the wood-cutter’s axe, the miller’s heavy voice that calls out, the song of the young heart to the whistles of her lover who just passed by, resonates with truth and simplicity which in the cities is unheard of.
No honk of cars and clamour around that reach high decibel causing discomfort to the ears. The stillness and the quietness of the small town life, city-dwellers may call it a bore. Knowing not that Life’s melody lies in the music of the radiant sun, soft breeze and misty fog. Multiple language and many tongues yet folks speak easily to one another, gifted by the Gods above, one speaks all tongues and dialects alike. The small town - a place of calm. A place that surely every day I would love to come. When I ask about little love, I know I'd get some. From the beginning to the end, room to stretch - room to spread.
The moon glows behind the hills, silently I watch it rise... presuming it saw me too and here I am all shy and meek... behind the clouds it hide itself and as I stole a glimpse and blushed, I fell in love all over again with life in the small town.
Alas! I am on my way back now to the busy lanes of a city life, much awaits more to pursue...but thoughts lay deep within too precious to forgo, I look back and wave good-bye until I come again. The journey passes with agonising slowness; westwards the sun hangs like a huge orange ball on the horizon devoid of heat, halo or even a glow. Against the canvas of the crisp blue sky, it looks sorry and forlorn. Wishful shadows of longing swoop my soul...and I smell everything but home!
More from the author:
Monsoonal Deluge! http://www.zogam.com/twilightzone/poems/812-monsoonal-deluge.html
Little Birdies http://www.zogam.com/twilightzone/poems/92-little-birdies.html