Into an evocation
of my grandfather’s
architectural elegance,
the frescoes, the intrinsic
nuances as found
in every part, the lines,
the borders, the designs,
the proportions, the space,
flow in a sequence.
Pouring over the plans,
scrutinizing the details,
I try to incorporate them
in appropriate places.
The houses he built,
the colleges he constructed,
the textile mills he set up
talk volumes of his prowess.
My canvas being constrained
I attempt to include them
as much as possible.
On completion, I look at them
with awe, Did I do that?
I ask myself. The pains,
I endured to bring them
into reality, lies beyond words.
Fetching materials, scouting
skilled workers, sourcing funds.
coordinating with enormous
patience makes me exhausted.
I am half of what I was few years ago.
Worthy and rewarding.
Meenas Poems 