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Showing posts from July, 2017

Bullock Cart

Bullock Cart; The facilitator of fraternity  Poem: P Anil Prasad
When I saw the bullock cart gain First time after many years At the portico of a hotel It was not an abandoned vehicle But it was an old friend!
He was the soulmate And rolled rhythmically on the sandy roads When we walked to and fro school During the late seventies and eighties.
We pushed him forward At the spokes of his wooden wheels When he struggled at steep inclines. Three souls then looked us with gratitude; The cart-man and the bullocks.
We called the cart-man “Chetta” and “Anna” All meant “hi elder brother” in Malayalam. Whenever the cart was empty, The cart-man called us “dai kerikko” meant “hi boy hop on” It was a fraternity facilitated by the bullock cart.
On rainy days he came with Temporary arched-roof made of reed mats We sat on sacks filled with hay Enjoying the music of rain While the bullocks strode in delight.
Now, engine driven vehicles It do not need our helping hands And no more it can facilitate The kind of fraternity we enj…