House of cards and castles of sand

Disillusionment plagues us at every step of our adulthood while as children we learnt to dwell happily with illusions knowing them to be so

 When I built a house of cards

I knew it would fall flat before the winds

When I made castles on a sea shore

I knew they would dissolve in the waves

When I read fairy tales I knew the story would end

For soon it would be bedtime

 

Mother you sieved the real from the fake beforehand

 I still loved the house of cards and castles of sand

Asked you over and over again to tell of fairies and their magic wand

 

When I saw myself all round in a trial room

 I knew of mirrors that did the trick

When a brand new pattern emerged  at the turn of hands

 I knew it was only a toy

When superheroes flew and fought  villains

 I knew it was only behind the screen

Oh teacher and mother you sieved the fake from the real beforehand

I was still awe struck with  the mirrors and kaleidoscope at hand

And the super heroes and their acts in wonderland

 

And then you began speaking of reality alone

Of building real mansions and kingdoms of my  own

Losing my shoe and heart to real princes  

In a world besotted with me

And my images weaving patterns to my delight

For everything would be in the ambit of my flight

 

And I chased, I found, I won, I built

Till the winds and waves blew and broke like before

 

It was time once more for tales and acts to end,

For mirrors and toys to own up their tricks

 Just like in the childhood days

And the houses, castles tales, and patterns

As  fanciful as then

 

Mother and teacher you could not sieve the fake from real beforehand

And my heart broke to sand for the castles  and the wonderland

 

And then one day I remembered

As a small girl how

Wondered, if I could then, why not now?

Still love the castles and wonderland

Now that I know that all that is real

Can turn fake anytime; beforehand

 

Reviews

[M P Ramesh]

sanjukta,

THE WRITER'S primary choice is emotions filled with memories. Issues like memory is still an enigma to modern science. The contribution of neurons and complicated manner of their behaviour were tasks unresolved to humanity. But these were the ones which were successfully handled by writers in the past. The variety with which they created it is what called aesthetics. It is relaxing when such pieces like above surfaces ...good attempt...........

Carry on.

M P Ramesh