Glittering and Gritty

Every beat of the drum,

pierced his heart.

Every note of the shennai,

brought tears to his eyes.

Yet he kept on playing,

longing to go back in time. 

Clutched tightly between his fingers, 

like grains of sand.

Glittering and gritty. 

The time when every moment was celebrated,

big or small..

The breaking of dawn, 

the last light of day and closing of gates.

Birth of a new life,

victory over old foes.

New ends..old beginnings..

the age of innocence.

Now there are just two of them,

keeping the tradition alive. 

Alone and forgotten.

a spectacle for rare visitors,

Relic of the past. 

The music fades away,

few odd spectators leave.

Its been long since a crowd gathered. 

he packs away the instruments,

The memories and the times.

and the few grains still left between his fingers..

Glittering and gritty. 

Written on 18th August, 2012.

(Its been a long long time..almost three months.. sorry sorry.. This poem also took a long time to take shape four months almost. The old city of Ahmedabad has lot to explore. The history,the stories. Some traditions still continue..The city gates when they were closed at night in the past did so with music playing in the background. One family still continues that tradition till date and at night around 11pm in a small room above the gates which now remain open play for sometime. It is sad and heartening at the same time. What will you do to go back in time which we think to be better than the present. Till next time..Eid Mubarak.. :) )