Keep your windows open and get connected to the world
My job is to let in sunlight
And to keep inside ventilated
In the process dusts airborne
As vehicles move find their way in
And settle on things kept inside
I am on a mud wall and
And overlooking the paddy field
Across the untopped road by the side
Women and men at home
Peep through me if they hear
Something odd from the road
I am a silent spectator to all that
Happen inside or outside this
Small well kept mud floored hut
At times I breathe air laden with
The fragrance of the paddy field in blossom
And the aroma of garlic
Fried in a corner of the hut
I overhear often the romantic whispers
Of the husband and wife inside
I am also used to the cries of the
Children and their quarrel
I see village folks carrying plough rods
And driving the pair of oxen
I hear the shrill call of a woman
Selling fish and vegetables
In the early morning hours
A number of times I get frightened
By the yells of the differently dressed
Village soothsayer and I pray within
Let him not have to predict something
Unwanted to the people of my hut
Rain water finds its way into the hut
Through me and I feel bad if someone
Shuts my doors hurriedly and with force
I may give an impression I am insensitive
But I only know I rejoice within when
People around are comfortable
And I cry within when they are in distress
I long for many good things to happen
To the family that my hut houses
I wish the children grow well
With enough skills and knowledge
Not only to take care of themselves
[...] Read more
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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