Poem: A father on houses and trees

Dear father, she writes, you might
like this place. Like our own, it has
eccentric old men who sit on benches
and shake their heads at all young
people. But unlike the city in
which you live (and I grew up), the
trees are simply not as tall.

Dearest daughter, he pens, you forget
that everything pales in comparison
to memory. The mangoes, they appear
greener when I dream. The red of
the pickle runs thick. Your uncle’s house,
it has grown old – the corner where
you used to play with your brother,

Has turned into a shrine for dust and
old newspaper. Bubbles between the
plaster and the walls. Houses are not
what they used to be. The heirs have
grown and barbers have shops with
no use for the shade of old trees.

NoteInspired by a quick, heartwarming chat with WA.

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0 Responses to Poem: A father on houses and trees

  1. WA says:

    I really do hope that they stop people chopping the trees in Chennai, especially the mango ones :((

    Like

  2. Gi Ve says:

    Very nice !

    Like

  3. shub says:

    nice šŸ™‚
    “the heirs have grown….” pun intended? šŸ™‚

    Like

  4. Riyaz says:

    The dark green mangoes is a dream and a memory to cherish. I always dream of a house with a mango tree in the front yard. Sad, I recently booked a flat in the erstwhile green, greyer than ever day-by-day Bangalore..

    Like

  5. raj says:

    Lovely poem, Neha. Finally, I am beginning to understand poetry!

    Like

  6. anoop a s says:

    When you were 8 years old,
    your dad handed you an ice cream
    You thanked him by dripping it all over your lap.

    When you were 9 years old,
    he paid for piano lessons.
    You thanked him by never even bothering to practice.

    When you were 10 years old,
    he drove you all day, from soccer to gymnastics to one birthday party
    after another.
    You thanked him by jumping out of the car and never looking back.

    When you were 11 years old, he took you and your friends to the movies.
    You thanked him by asking to sit in a different row.

    When you were 12 years old, he warned you not to watch certain TV
    shows.
    You thanked him by waiting until he left the house.

    When you were 13, he suggested a haircut that was becoming.
    You thanked him by telling him he had no taste.

    When you were 14, he paid for a month away at summer camp.
    You thanked him by forgetting to write a single letter.

    When you were 15, he came home from work, looking for a hug.
    You thanked him by having your bedroom door locked.

    When you were 16, he taught you how to drive his car.
    You thanked him by taking it every chance you could.

    When you were 17, he was expecting an important call.
    You thanked him by being on the phone all night.

    When you were 18, he cried at your high school graduation.
    You thanked him by staying out partying until dawn.

    When you were 19, he paid for your college tuition, drove you to
    campus, carried
    your bags.

    You thanked him by saying good-bye outside the dorm so you wouldn’t be
    embarrassed in front of your friends.

    When you were 25, he helped to pay for your wedding, and he cried and
    told you how
    deeply he loved you.

    You thanked him by moving halfway across the country.

    When you were 50, he fell ill and needed you to take care of him.
    You thanked him by reading about the burden parents become to their
    children.

    And then, one day, he quietly died. And everything you never did came
    crashing down like thunder on YOUR HEART.

    If you love your dad, share this with your friends, if you don`t…then shame on you…!!

    no no no no………… neha,,,,
    i am not a poet……

    i read it from somewhere.. and stored in my heart

    Like

  7. L says:

    I know you remember
    the trees, a house, the pickle,
    a bench where you broke
    down and cried.
    But do you remember
    If I was ever young?

    Like

  8. WA: Agree. The city doesn’t look half as green as it was even ten years back.

    Gi Ve: Thankings.

    Shub: None intended!

    Riyaz: Bangalore is still better I think. Much more green – though the city has me breaking out in hives half the times.

    Raj: šŸ™‚

    Anoop: Eh?

    L: Very cryptic. I like.

    Like