Nostalgic Memory Of My Brother

My dear friend,I have sent the poem.pl do acknowledge.
Mythili

My brother and I played Gilli
We played in all the lanes and by lanes of our village.
We used to come home muddied and dirty
Mother would give us a sound thrashing and a clean bath.

My brother and I used to eat together
When mother served me first,he would kick me
When mother served him first, I would roll on the floor and cry
Mother would take a stick and we used to giggle and run out.

My brother and I had the same friends
If anybody troubled me brother would tear them to pieces
There were many a broken noses and torn shirts because brother took up my cause
I held my head high and walked ,brother was there to protect me.

When brother fell in love
I carried messages for him
When I was attracted to a girl
He arranged for meetings

My brother and I studied in the same school
He passed first class went to college,became a big shot
Studies were not in my blood,failed again and again
I became a carpenter.

My brother is in Mumbai,lives in a big bungalow
He owns many cars,has many servants and is very rich, they say.
I live in our village, in a small shack, with my family
I am not rich,not poor either.

I want to see my brother ,who is very rich
With whom I played Gilli in all the lanes and by lanes of our village
I saved enough money to go to Mumbai
Bidding farewell to one and all,”I will see my brother and come”,said I

I stood in front of his house,big and beautiful,
I went near the gate, grinning from ear to ear,
The watchman rushed to me and pushed me out
“I am his brother”, I said, “yes I know, get out”, he said.

I stood there, waiting for my brother to come and take me inside
My brother came in car,’My brother’I shouted,”I have come to see you”
My brother turned away his face ,I stood in stunned silence
Didn’t my brother recognize me?

I stood there for three days not eating, not drinking,
Waiting for my brother to come out and take me inside.
My brother came out,came in many times in car,
He did not turn to look at me,his brother.

“My brother”,my heart cried, “I don’t want your riches,
I don’t want your cars,I don’t want your jewels,
I want to only hug you, my brother”,my heart cried
I want to tell you, “My brother I am proud of you.”

“Your brother has forgotten you”, said my friends
“Your brother is ashamed of you”, said my relatives
But I know in my heart, my brother will remember me and come back to me,
My brother with whom I played gilli in the lanes and bylanes of our village.

When my brother reaches his old age,when he tires of his riches
He will realise the value of love and friendship
He will realise that his riches and his cars and his big bungalow will not give him happiness
The true love of his near and dear ones alone will give him happiness.

My brothet will remember me and come back to me
My brother with whom I played gilli in the lanes and bylanes of our village
He will alwaye be there for me,I will always be there for him
My brother with whom I played gilli in the lanes and bylanes of our village.
.

poem by my friend mythili,, brought to u by sunkan

sunkan,

A to your friend mythili.

This was a nostalgic one through memory lane. I know many can identify with it. thanks for sharing

Dear Sunkan ma'am

My for your friend who has written this...

Thanks for bringing it here..

Love
Meena

nicely expressed the reality and the truth in today's world!
thanks for bringing this, Sunkan!

sriniketan