Reclining on my arm chair in my porch, I go back to the days of my childhood.
Half a century back, really so long, I cannot believe, I cannot assume, I shrivel, I recollect the day I got to school.
I was lead into my Kindergarten ,by Sister Denis .
The KG teacher, carried me aloft, and called me “Dolly.”
Sister Denis,introduced me to the class as Meena, my original name.My eyes got moist, as I bade a subdued farewell to my mom,who in turn wiped her eyes and walked out of the class.
I was a quiet girl, very reserved, and much caressed by my teacher.
I was good worker, a keen listener and had a strong memory.
These qualities are still predominant, and I was a prefect of my class right from KG to sixth form.
I was elected as the School Pupil leader,with thundering majority.
At home, I was a child ,who gave least botheration to my parents.
The domestic staff ,in my household ,simply adored me.
Now , my children have flown away from me, on pursuit of achievements and excellence.
My husband , tries to pull me into social activities and other worldly pursuits.
I dare not.
I wish to be my own self, away from the maddening crowd, unobtrusive, unknown, unfamiliar ,yet studious, serving society without much advertisement,spelling out simple, practical ,advice to whoever knocks my door.
I wake up from my reverie,as the telephone starts ringing, bringing me back to the mundane world.
Meenas Poems 