Poetry at Sangam



59 by Mohan Gehani

I remember
During childhood in my home
    There was a small shining box.
Children were not allowed
To play with it.
An elder in the family
Would open that box.
Its shine and painted patterns
Were breath-taking indeed!
We would hold their breath
In excitement and anticipation.
What did the box contain?
Some toy or rare jewellery?
Would emerge another box!
Again we would be seized
With thrill and expectation
Again another small box would emerge.
This process would continue;
Our curiosity would peak,
Until at last a small
Seventh box would come out
The elder one would laugh;
We would join with hollow
Defeated laughter