From the canal bank market to markets,
A boat man had propelled with a long pole.
A mat roofed boat,
Full of goods and intrigues,
Gets visible with
The high tide of recollections.
The boiling rice on the kerosene stove
And a blinking night lamp
Boil and blink again.
He plucked tender coconuts
From the grove nearby,
When its owner had been fast asleep.
He had shattered a widow’s solitude
On the bank of Kanoli canal.
He had peeped into secrecy
Of the bathing village damsels……..
The moist events after events,
The boat man recalls and repents.
The roads became kings,
The boat decay tied,
And the boat man a wrinkled storyteller.
Often,he looks up the sky
For the rain washing out all.
FABIYAS M V