Then and Now

Then and Now

Then and now
each has its own show
in my life as well as in the life of all
one being an ignorant child small
the other being grown up and pretty old
to bid adieu to life, being at its threshold
gazing at all earthly lessons and wisdom
where often found there exists venom
in things, pronounced to be nectar
for selfish end the color, those alter.
From “Then” Now” sees a sea change
from innocence to a much more complex range
picked up from the earth around
to caution, all gospels fail to sound.
With learnings, experience, and earnings
from poverty in childhood to a decent living
dwelling, I changed from village to city
from kerosene lamps to nonstop electricity
from muddy house to sky-kissing mansion.
Peep in me now for both a comparison.

A Kaleidoscopic view
an evening in both two
wink in me, very often
thus are they, in me as they run.

Born and grownup
in a remote rural setup
in a thatched muddy shelter
with straw and palm leaf cover
easy to rebuild, flood to counter.
luxuriant bushes with animals galore
evenings are harrowing with their roar
driving me to hide behind my grandmother
A kerosene lamp, the entire house, to cover.
Most of the villagers sleep very early
‘Darkness and health’, as reasons they see.
Some say thus living as rich, some say it poor
It is the Lord's gift to some on the earth floor.
A zigzag river runs forming its necklace
“ A foe, harmless to a friend to harness.”
This necklace alters itself over a year
in summer as of gold grains it appears,
blue ruby in autumn, the diamond in rain
with the sun and moon sparkling this chain.
But the tales of crocodiles frighten me
robbed me of its beauty that I could not see.
In darkness from the other bank calls, crying
for the boat, fears to me It used to bring.
As a child on the other bank of the river
I could only see the trees and forest cover
forming an idea, it housed ghosts and tiger
under the darkness, they would eat the caller.
Changed the conception when I was ten
the beauty of the river then I gaze time and again.
.
An evening tale was harrowing for me
Harrowing heartbreaking as then I could see
jackals many in a group howl harshly
a small kite from the roof frightened me.
the cry of a hen snatched from a backyard
a light from the cremation ground, flashing, awkward
a flooded river to cross, the call for the boat across
filled with prayers of the mercy of the passerby to cross
with many tales of ghosts, and ghouls in the brain
a slight sound frightened me out life to drain
listened to city life with light and music around
ghost ghouls and jackals there were not found”
“How lucky are the people born in the city!”
Thoughts often peeped in me in bounty.”.
But at an age of twelve, my love for the village grew
my appreciation, its beautiful flora, and fauna drew.

Now at the wrong side of seventy
settled I with a life of a city
an evening I look around
at uninterrupted light and sound
dazzling mansions malls for shopping
no jackals to howl and no cuckoo to sing
rivers devoid of water to cross
artificial streams with musical chaos
artificial man-made beauty dazzle
causing the psycho to unbalance in the skull.
Cry this heart for tho childhood with fear
but the scenic beauty in villages exists no longer.

P K Routray
in the service of the Lord