Evergreen Holiday
A poem that tells a story
*We are flying to India for our vacation*
The blood of my Indian father though ran through my vein
Yet his words sent shock waves down my spine.
For going to India meant to be —
Dress up to cover the body from head to toe.
Follow the forgotten custom
Talk not loud but in a whispering voice at home.
Prove — you are a cultured Indian girl
Though living in a foreign land
I was well-trained to be cultured.
The day of journey finally arrived
I sat in the plane next to my snoring dad
The worst experience I ever had.
I felt then —
My Canadian mom did the right thing divorcing this snoring man.
The plane hit the Indian ground at twelve noon
Exposing my sensitive skin
To the hot-blazing sun.
The taxi men flocked around us in no time as we stepped out
Some started pulling our luggage with all might.
As though they have right over us,
And what belonged to us.
My biological father carefully chose the taxi-man
The taxi fled to Coimbatore Railway station.
The following one and half hour journey by train to Palakkad
was the best thing that ever happened.
I felt grateful towards my Indian father for two things since I left my hometown
One was getting me a window seat in the train
And secondly, his seat was two rows behind mine.
The window appeared to me then
A door to heaven.
It let the dazzling sunbeam
To radiate my face.
Extensive green farms
Served a spectacular feast to my eyes.
Thousands of coconut trees stood
As though they were on parade.
Clusters of mangoes hanging so low down from their trees
Tempted my taste buds.
Staring right into my eyes were tiny squirrels
Nibbling the fallen, ripened mangoes.
The scenery of bunch of jackfruits hanging
Was awe-striking.
Along my tiring journey, all shades of the omnipresent green
Brought unexpected freshness to my exhausted body and brain.
The exhaustion was soon overcome by hunger
The hunger to explore the nature.
My desires grew at heart
To stay evergreen like Mother Nature forever.
The moment we reached the destination
The men in red shirts and trousers with towel around their neck hustled in to the train.
Coolie, Coolie, when voices called —
In their direction, the men rushed.
Those men in red, soon turned into a camel to earn their bread
Each man loaded the passenger’s luggage on his shoulder and head.
I observed two things as I walked past the petty shops
Hanging from its roof was the huge bunch of long-yellowish bananas.
And at the corner, a match box was secured with a string
A bite of banana with an inhale of tobacco can very well get along.
As we stepped out
Yellow-colored, three-wheeler vehicle- Auto was awaiting us for transport.
I was in awe at its design
My next fifteen-minutes-drive in it through narrowest lanes promised a great fun.
The auto stopped in front of a shell house
The vast greenery in, around and beyond, fed my starving eyes.
A thin, feeble, elderly woman dressed up in all white opened the door
For the first time, I saw my grandmother.
When my eyes met with hers-
The tiresome journey and the bitterness towards India fled away in a flash.
All that remained in the depths of my heart
Was love for my Grandmother and the Mother Nature.
Memories of my vacation in India
When I was thirteen —
Shall remain evergreen.
