Ghoomparani Mashi Pishi

Far, far away in an unknown landscape,

where an unfinished muddy road, made of red bricks,

meanders into a century-old banyan tree,

where the shade falls on a thatched hut,

that leads to a village, where crickets,

those crickets have just started their evening songs,

where there's a very small hut's courtyard, where a lantern,

a lantern's sepia light swings gently in a cool breeze,

and in the handwoven mattress lies a beautiful kid,

her eyes shining like the moon, and her mother,

trying to cradle her to sleep, but, alas,

her eyes remain fixated on the starry sky.

In the evening sky, twinkling with infinite stars,

there's a village, a village which is the home,

of an old grandmother, her hair knotted in a bun,

her hands continuously continuing to knit something,

and her eyes suddenly catch hold of another pair,

from way down, a pair of beautiful eyes catches her attention.

As night deepens, as the mother falls asleep, but the kid,

wide awake, the old grandmother climbs down, down from,

from the valley of the stars, into the red-bricked road,

tip-toeing slowly, her kind eyes smiling, smiling,

as she reaches the kid, and then she opens her bag,

the bag full of sweetly knit dreams, that she kept knitting,

and magically, covered the kid's eyes with a quilt of slumber,

and sings the lullaby of sleep, as the kid slowly,

closes her eyes, and sucking her thumb,

peacefully enters the big gates of,

the magical world of sweet dreams.

***