Pure  Nostalgia

G.K. Chettur (1898-1936)

 

' I was a tiny tot when cruel fate snatched away my father. Memories of him are hazy but one picture surfaces from the recesses of my mind, which remains clear even up to this day. I remember my father lying in bed and my mother sitting silently by his side, shedding silent tears. I even remember asking her why she was crying, but she remained silent with tears flowing unabated. Being a toddler, I did not understand the gravity of the situation at that time. Then one day I was told that my father had gone on a long journey. Little did I realize that it was his final journey and that I would never see him again'.

                                                       VM Padmini Chettur, daughter (2006)

 

 

 

The Temple Tank

 

Here, by this pool, where herons stand and wait,

In quietness I cannot imitate:

Where Dawn and Sunset fling with reckless hand

A bounty that I cannot understand:

Where little things of fur and claw and scale,

6With careless scorn put me beyond the pale,

And the rapt silence broken by their stir

Wraps closer round the restless worshipper;

Here, to this place of wonderment and peace,

1With hurried steps, impatient, ill-at-ease,

I come to shed this ceaseless strife that mars

Even the beauty of the changeless stars:

And I return, undaunted, calm, and slow,

Careless of how I move, or where I go,

With benediction of this solitude,

Not understanding God, but -- understood.