THE LAST WALK

A tribute to my grandfather

It was my last walk with him.

Holidaying in Kerala, I was,
in my father's home,
where my grandpa lived almost all alone

It was hardly noon,
My grandpa held out his hand,
'Take me out,' he said
I did so ,but, unwilling I was,
murmuring and muttering to myself
indicating my displeasure

He grabbed my hand,
and set out like a toddling child.
I was his walking stick,
I was his support.

He experienced a new world,
Trapped in the room he was,
starin' out and serachin' for someone
But, hardly did a soul care.

He let my hand go free,
touched the leaves of a tree,
balancing himself he tried to feel.
And soon passed off a breeze.

Irritated I was, and longed to return
As a child I was, but, too heartless I was.
In my selfishness, I wished to snatch away his happiness....
His joy on seeing the new world aroun' him

We returned soon , on my pestering.
After a few days, so, did I returned to my city....
Years passed... , and came the news,
he had met his end,
the search was over,
finally free he was ,
As no more alive he was!

Shameful and sorry still I feel,
when i remember the day,
when i was his walking stick,
I was his support.
Tears roll down my eyes,
when i remember the day,
when i denied him his happiness,
his few minutes of joy,
For so heartless i was.

That was my last walk with him!