on my dada’s knee

NaPoWriMo 2017

For hour’s I devoured, stories of a world abandoned
Faraway lands that came to life, his pupils and his hands in tandem; I sat on my dada’s knee

Shaking couplets, tears intercepted with guffaws
Fingers caressed the spineless book that had escaped, also outlawed; I sat on my dada’s knee

Horseback rides, orchard strolls, rooftop gatherings
I held tight on the trot, plucked ripe mangoes, crackled corn, went along on his meanderings; I sat on my dada’s knee

Maimed, Raped, Orphaned, Robbed – preparatory words
I asked why he hated train journeys – he murmured something about the whir; I sat on my dada’s knee

I also asked why he was so tall yet so bent ;so handsome yet so forlorn
He hunched under the weight of his Kashiana separated and dispersed; the partition of his beautiful subcontinent had left him hoarse; he lived with the ghosts of the many he could not mourn;
I sat on my dada’s knee