In the far fringe of a woody island
With a winding river
Making circuitous pilgrimage
There is a solitary hut
Visible through the patches of light and shadow
With its precincts lapped by the waves
And the rich alluvial soil
Engendering plants of robust growth
In it live a man and wife
A pair made for each other!
Their likes and longings
Blend and bleed into one another
Though they are at the subsistence level
Who have just one square meal a day
They grow in the joy of a living love
Making life a celebration in a rare way
Their humble hut, ever blessed by
Seasonal yield from fruit trees of tropical kind
Added by plants’ flowery delight
A riot of pink, yellow, red and maroon
Where wild trees stand watch over
With creepers in greener leaves
And their foliage, in a merry dance
Latching and intertwining their delicate tendrils
In the air, there is a subdued roar
Made by the swish and swirls of life
But in the silent interstices
Between the rush and blur
There descends a heavenly peace
That sets their souls dancing
Making it a happy home
Sweeter than a mansion of gold!
I have watched their life with a grain of envy. Somehow I feel that sons of the soil leading a simple life away from all artificial sophistication of modern life, unhealthy competitions and vaulting ambition for power and pelf are far more contented in life with their days couched in greater peace and harmony!