Below is the prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 2:
Our (optional) prompt for the day takes a leaf from Schuyler’s book, as it were, and asks you to write a poem about a specific place — a particular house or store or school or office. Try to incorporate concrete details, like street names, distances (“three and a half blocks from the post office”), the types of trees or flowers, the color of the shirts on the people you remember there.
1545- My Maternal House
About thirty miles away
From where I presently stay
Is the city of my birth
And the house where I grew up
From teens to an adult,
The house that witnessed,
The journey of a girl into a complete woman
House number 1545: A bungalow or our mansion,
Constructed under dad’s keen supervision,
We finally called it our home,
in the 1993 summer.
Of the three bedrooms ( apart from a huge lounge cum dining room),
The room painted in pink, which was next to the kitchen
Was allotted to me (the youngest), to be shared with my sister
Our mornings were loud and aromatic
With smell of spices and vinegar
Garlic, cauliflower and ladyfinger,
And the whistling of the cooker.
Evenings were often delicious
With pakoras (fritters), fish or rice chicken
Or freshly baked cake- a cuisine par perfection
I marveled the magnificence of the house,
The big courtyard with greenery abound
Papaya, guava and lemon trees
And a few seasonal saplings
I recall scouring the creeper
for bitter gourd, brinjal and ridgegourd
Even plucking some spinach and coriander
“Ours is the corner house,
Just two lanes across school compound,”
I would tell my friends with glee
As I walked back to the house at three
I would perch on the corner boundary,
Watching pedestrians crossing the street
As I licked the orange bar- my favored ice cream
A stroll on the wide terrace,
After rain swept its floors
And gaping at the beauty of vibgyor
As sun peeked thereafter, shrugging off raindrops
Sky gazing became my rejuvenation
Watching stars aligning in constellations,
Clouds cuddling in affection then distancing in retribution
It’s almost three decades
But memories are anew as ever
The grocer, the house help, the laundryman,
The association continues across generations
The house stands tall- aboding old and new members
But my maternal house- house number 1545
Will always be my childhood treasure!
©Vandana Bhasin
02.04.2020
A nice down the memory lane…
i love how you introduced sounds, smells and sights into your poem, I could feel your love and appreciation – lovely, lovely, lovely!
Beautiful <3 🙂
Thanks Preethi dear. How have you been ?
I’m fine dear, How ru?
All good dear. Thanks. Take care
absolutely my pleasure, I am enjoying the flavour of your poems
Beautiful. Could smell Aloo paratas being made in the morning. 🙂
Ha Ha. You smelled it right. Thanks darling 🙂