Friday, March 28, 2014


I count for folds of time
dusting old albums
blowing open sepia…

…The pedestal fan whirrs
noting the stillness, waiting
for seconds to tick the day

I cup the sunbeam
filtering in the room
through glass roof – tiles
sparrow chirps
break the noon silence…

…The pedestal fan whirrs
in semi-circle views of milieu
holding to tests of time, people

Through the bamboo blinds
I count the footsteps
pressing the sparkling grains of mud
waiting for an umbrella shadow…

…The pedestal fan whirrs
integrating me with corners
that house wrinkled journeys

Grandparent’s youth stays framed
in b & w on the old- white wall
present in seeming absence
of any acknowledgement…

…The pedestal fan whirrs
capturing the corridor miles
immeasurable in memories

Fanned by coconut leaves
the stone in the backyard remains
barred idyllic, standing with children
shuddering to grandpa’s admonition…

…The pedestal fan whirrs
seeping in a mundane routine
yet, not skyscraper(ed) pursuits

The pedestal fan whirrs
those summers noon
even today…

…That pedestal fan whirrs
no longer

For Meeting the Bar ~ Rhythm and Blank Verse 

some fond memories of my paternal ancestral home where I spent my summer vacation. Summer sets here in India and with every summer those memories kindle me with fondness.


  1. smiles...they are good memories to carry...i like the split of the poem and how you bring them both together there in the end with the link of that fan...i have some great memories of a summer with my great uncle that i carry with me often...

  2. Excellent description! I have a place like this too, where I visit my grandparents.. not every summer now though, of course.. it's a distinct childhood memory, and you captured it so well, I feel my memory mingling with your poem! The bamboo blinds, pedestal fan, all setting the scene of hot Indian summers... Fantastic!

  3. this is a beautiful capture of your memories akila... reminded me of the summers i spent with my grandparents on their farm in bavaria..

  4. I really enjoyed the way you've repeatedly returned to the motif of the whirring fan between the stanzas that capture your memories.

    Is there any chance of hearing you read it?

  5. Beautiful and very atmospheric poem, Akila! I can hear and see the fan. I like the form you chose as well as the wistful memories and images.

  6. Great capture of your memories.

  7. I like the ephemeral feel of this poem - a bit like our lives.

  8. I like the refraining lines of the pedestal fan whirling ~ It speaks of the time passing, before and after ~ Enjoyed the details of your summer memories ~


  9. Is it the end of summer there? I didn't realize you were "upside down to us" as well as Australia/New Zealand etc. I always thought India had completely different kinds of seasons - exotic, rainy, brilliant, and cool...ha! A romantic picture undoubtedly of the subcontinent which in itself is so varied. I love the look inside a home you loved and stayed in. Cool shadows and fond memories still dwell within!


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