Thannare thana, thinna thannaram thaana....(II)
I am not sure of the words of their songs
I am not even sure if this is my language anymore.
But as the rhythm beats
It holds me in its serpentine sway.
My soul strums up some ancient memories
Of a life in the cradle of green fields
Of grains and harvests and rainfall
And pagan Gods.
The beating of crude drums remind me
Not to forget
Where I come from.
As the music fades into the distance
I walk up to the little temple of my ancestors
And light one more lamp in their memory.
And as the wick sputters into a bright light
I am once again my great-grandfather's thought of me,
I am a continuum of His cosmic grace.
First published in Indian Sahitya, Feb 2017 Issue on Contemporary Indian Poetry