Page 23 - Gems II

Father
Prakash Nagarajan

Around the corner, nearby a street-end,
Prakash Nagarajan is an upcoming author and a poet extraordinaire I came across once, one of my father's friends,
from India. Though reticent by nature, he is a keen observer of life,
and coupled with his penchant for writing, he often puts to paper with Bent and grey, now withered with age,
a lovely flourish, his thoughts, views and observations. His easy, Looking no less, like an wise old sage,
conversational style of writing makes most of his books a compulsive
read, giving insight into his world views, and into the values that he His eyes grew moist, on seeing me,
cherishes utmost in life. I stood still, as gnarled hands embraced me,
When not confined to his desk churning out poems and stories, he
seeks pleasure in long walks, is an intense nature-lover and avid His voice came slow, and strangely quiet,
For a moment there, I was taken aback quite,
photographer. In his spare hours, he can be found devoting time
teaching (for gratis) school children, Economics, History, and
You so look now, like your father, my son,
English, subjects those that are close to his heart. He can be contacted
over email at- prakashshastri_2000@yahoo.co.uk But yet like him, there never was one,
His literary offerings include, 'Stepping Back...', and 'The business
kinds.' He was of, but a different mettle,
Twenty-four carat, pure gold metal,
His recent book, 'Different Skies...', an assortm
Rich in spirit, a vibrant soul,
A real man, all and whole,

Monsoon Honesty his calling, sincerity his nature,
At every juncture, he just grew in stature,
My well is dry, my fields are parched,
A land bleached white, intensely sun scorched, His work remained worship,
Not a single cloud, seen in the sky, Under duress, under every hardship,
Not as far, as doth a black crow fly,
Against a glaring sun, my eyes, I shield, A family man, a devoted son,
What do I say, about crops or yield? A loving father, if there ever was one,
A barren land, in wait for a till,
How thus to carry on, when until? A dutiful brother, a brother-like friend,
Year on year, your arrival remains a suspense, To us, he was truly Godsend,
How do I meet, school fees or a marriage expense?
My family fed up, of my moans, He was our ideal, of how a man should be,
But what do they know, of my loans? A true inspiration, we all still agree,
Desperate, I pray, my prayers surround you,
Ardent wishes, for cloud cover, showers, even dew, If you need know, the true measure of that man,
You cool my heart, you cool my fields, Try and emulate, if you can,
Your arrival means, fertile land yields,
Swelling wells, overflowing lakes, Simple, sober, he was truly great,
Lush green all around, in your wake, My dear friend, and your father late.
Please do hear, this poor farmer's song,
I yearn for you so, pray do not be long! © Prakash Nagarajan

© Prakash Nagarajan
20 | Dr. K.C. Sethi & Sunita Sethi GEMS - II | 21