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Dec 2018
Sweeping past the lineroom yards
With a long hand held broomstick
Malayandi was a daily sight,
A hard and indelible insight

His quiet mouth a taco
Betel leaf and tobacco
The sweet red rose scent
Animate his hands to accent
Rhythms in the dirt puddle
strokes of savage broom
Frolic along sewage groom
Gargle alongside marbles
Rake up ripple giggles
Babbling bubbles fling
Driving mild stink flakes
To spread morning
Knit into a dead neat serenity.

On festival seasons vacations
Instead of grooming the vassal
comes blooming with big vessels
Collects cooked food in measures
From each and every homestead
People pour in quiet leisure
Rice in a *** of metal
Curry in another kettle
Filled with reverence and pleasure
His heart is brimming sure

All different kitchen meals
In a single container appeals
All children of the same ranch
With many a range
of community
A bonehomie of unity

The children heard
from their friend his daughter
They'd preserved
All those food in cold water
And all the while
They'd eat from it too
This collected meal
for a week or two

This made the children to
look up at them
With same respect due to
a national anthem

Are they more advanced?
With knowledge enhanced
In matters of life and cleanliness?

Malayandi was unaware
That his humble duty covered
Sweeping as well grooming
TheΒ children's hearts
With arts of rare sensibility.
Written by
Philipp K J  53/M/Bangalore
   Monika Layke
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