Dear Mithila,
The mother of my children,
the love of my life
.
Yes, this place doesnt have wine
so no i havent been drunk
Heard my grandson's prayers,
you've been ill.
Heard you dont even go to the stock market
all day my wife is still.
I met your insurance contractor
And oh! is he a fine entity
he still bestows his powers upon me
My dearest Mithila
Loved you i have for seventy years
And ill love you till seventy eternities more
Our dead son, opened the door
and this place we reside is warm
unlike the winters where i went to the storm,
and blasted rifles in names of a revolution
The love of my life,
the mother of my children.
Teach our grandsons the song we sang
The bells in the market we rang
And let them ask if not pray
for their grandfather far away
Let not little grandsons of mine
forget honor due to evils of time
Oh! how i miss you dear
and oh, how i was wish i was there
You'll come in time, but understand
your wishes, my queen, were commands
but this wish i cant fulfill and i wont let the company,
wont let them take you like they took me
Stay! for my daughter still needs her mother
and my grandsons and granddaughter
needs to know of our love
Forever yours,
Madhav
My grandad was an atheist and he ridiculed places of worship as stock market(temples, churches) or just markets, and he called god an insurance contractor who went out of business a long time...but he never openly mocked god and religon because he loved my grandmom a lot who has been frequently getting ill after his passing...this is just a small tribute to their love
