Thoughts of a son in New York

Thoughts of a  son in New York

Translated by

P.R.Ramachander

(Translated  from a Malayalam poem  which was sent to me  inWhatsapp )

Even If I am not an old man like my father,

I  am older  than my father

For my father  does not have pressure, Sugar and anger,

And I run much before   father in all these .

I am in New York, and I am a new Person,

I am top  in the  modern knowledge,

Modern machines, modern books,

Modern diseases and  I am independent

Four people    in four rooms,

Living as   four people  is my   present  heaven,

But rven in a shade  of a banyan tree,

Without getting ashamed ,

I  used  to stay   without    any shame

Though  my father lives alone  in my village,

All good things  of those villages  with him and he says,

“Oh darling son , can you not leave   your place,

Cannot you do something  here  in this place”

Have you not earned more than  what you need,

,Needed  things and things   that  are not needed.

When I make a call to my home Father says and adds,

“Darling son , how many  more  years will I live.?”

“My  new project  is stopping in the middle,

And people who have   studied new things are in the queue,

I told him  that  which I   tell him every time,

And father, automatically blurted out 

If there is a need  Jack fruit   can be produced  even on  the root,

From next month is  vacation  and son , please   do come,

Along with  bring your son and daughter? Do they remember me?

Not mentioning about my wife  and  not mentioning her   

was  not due  to  his  forgetfulness, at all

Several   facts   which would be  in his memory,

Would not go away   , even if he   looses   his memory

I was  brought up  just like   a crow and a koel,

Always being loved   and always spoiled

But now   I am in the nest without any love,

Just like a watchman resembling a  security animal

To all those   who see  me  “I am always in the car”

And “I am also  in the top rung  of fortune”

They   murmur , How  lucky  he is  and

The  star of  luck is shining in his life

If truth  is to be   told   we know   that is not life

The life that  is always   filled with Cars   and fortune

All those  way farers  of this life   are very anxious,

To make some meaning out of all this,

Is it because   lot of wealth got   attached to me.

That  I am living   this life   which is meaningless,

When  our growing  is much beyond expectations,

Do  we forget   about the roots   which are inside the  mud?

Even that  mud which was   the support of the   growth .

Of the self same roots    forgets it and later  a thought arose ,

About why there  is a need of   that  dirty mud and

Today I am realizing    that  this root is the only  the truth.

The father   is  blindly loving me   ,much more than,

The love  of a blind king  and to understand him,

One has  to necessarily   become a father

“Who is the great architect of this story  ,which

Now appears  to be a mere  nonsense  story