Pages

Sunday 24 March 2024

The Suitcase



I once owned a suitcase
The one which you wouldn't find now
It was sturdy and strong 
The top had a brown cloth lining
With leather patches in the corners

It was lockable with a click 
A prominent sound made
When unlocked too
The inside was blue the hue of infinity 
And spacious too

I stored my precious gems in there
Only a few.....the epics, Ramayana
And Mahabharata, Shakespeare,
Ben Hur, Three Muskateers,
Engrossing translated versions
For children with beautiful pictures
On glazed papers in between 

I read the stories again and again
Deeply inhaled the fragrance 
Of yellowed pages...stared at the
Pictures for hours and hours
Time travelling to be with them
When Ben Hur rode the chariot
And M'Lady smiled mysteriously
Hanuman blazed down Lanka
And the Pandavas battled against
Their brothers....I lived and re-lived
The tales with unforgettable characters

Then I lost to time the suitcase
And my treasures in transit to
Another .... of survival of the fittest 
But it's smell and warmth 
Still remained with me and became
Stronger from memory to living reality

I know as I grow younger by heart
And older by age...the trove shall
Return to me with divine grace
Because that's the rule of the Universe
As linear proceeds time we humans move
Backwards from branches to branches
To slender twigs to wizardry of stems 
And then the roots spread deep within
The bosom of the Earth where all of us
Shall sleep at last with Macbeth, Othello,
Hamlet, Ram, Arjun and the rest


12 comments:

  1. Ah, those are treasures indeed! I've loved them all too. And really, they don't leave us, even if the books where we first found them do.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Really nice job. "Grow younger by heart and older by age...." What a great line. I used to have a suitcase like that!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Yvonne. I wish the world could retain the power of innocence.

      Delete
  3. Lovely - especially the last verse! I hope that the universe lives up to that expectation.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Yes, the Universe listens, Rajani. Thank you very much for liking my poetry.

    ReplyDelete
  5. It is a suitcase of memories, isn't it? It locks up all the things that have given us joy and love.
    Lovely poem, and it reminds me of the little suitcase that I used in my primary school days. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, a suitcase of memories which still makes me happy.

      Delete
  6. Growing younger by heart is the real blessing ultimately.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I feel this. Nothing is ever destroyed. It just changes form. The memory is like a song on a record. We're not playing that song now but it's still there:
    I don’t check my bags
    because the subatomic particles
    that look like me
    are afraid of losing
    and disappearing...
    because science has proven
    my suitcase is an illusion
    filled with mostly empty space

    ReplyDelete
  8. Colleen your comment makes me think.

    ReplyDelete