My Grandma stayed in a remote village
In an ordinary old house with tile roof
Power was not there, well water used
Land aside, there was a small pond

In my childhood, very happy to stay there
To play in the empty plains so vast near
With innocent kids in neighbourhood
To swim in the clean and shallow pond

Grandma lit small oil lamps in night
Hang lanterns in front for light
By dusk house hold works would over
All are free after early supper

Nights were so calm making clear
Chirping of crickets rubbing wings
Often howling sounds of birds
Grandma explained each as stories

Woke up in the morning, heard bird songs
Grandma fetched water from well
With string and pulleys so nicely
Poured in copper and brass vessels

Grandma made chutneys in grinding stone
Cooked in fire-hearth using wood scraps
All dishes in clay mould pots and pans
So tasty still mouth melting in thoughts

Decades passed, yet at times memories
Takes me to the village, time transformed
Changing in mechanical shifts of life
Let me cherish village tastes in dreams