… I visited again … (adapted to years spent in beloved Rajghat)

… I visited again

That corner of the earth where once I spent,

In placid exile, eight unheeded years.

More than three decades gone since then – and in my life

There have been many changes – in myself,

Who from the general law is not exempt,

There have been changes, too – but here once more

The past envelops me, and suddenly

It seems that only yesterday I roamed

These groves.

Here stands the ‘Sangam House’, where

I lived with my friends and two good young teachers

Here by the River bank

Under large fig trees I often sat

Unstirring, staring down upon the River

Recalling, as I looked, with melancholy

Another shore, and other waves I knew …

Beyond the green fields,

It stretches its muddy breadth, the same flowing River:

A Fisherman across its lonely waters

Dragging in his wake

A wretched net. Upon the sloping shores

Are scattered hamlets – and beyond them there

A brick kiln stands crookedly

Upon the edge

Of this ancient land, on the spot

Where the rough road, drenched by

The heavy rain,

Begins its upward climb, a Peepul rises –

And I remember how, on moonlit nights,

When I walked past, their rustling greeted me

Like a familiar voice. I took that road

I saw the Peepul before me once again.

It is the same, and on the ear the same

Familiar whisper breaks from shaken boughs,

But at the base, besides its aged roots

Has sprung a fair young grove, and I observe

A verdant family; the bushes crowd       

Like children in its shadow

I hail you, race of youthful newcomers!

I shall not witness your maturity,

When you shall have outgrown my ancient friend,

But let the children hear

Your wordless greeting when, as they return,

Content, light-hearted, from a talk with friends,

Walk past you in the dark of night

And think, perhaps, of me.

(In memory …)