I loved the way the gramophone played

Gilded music, retro beats

Flowing through the long corridor of a white mansion- 

A mansion endearing, 

A mansion enduring,

A mansion still standing in the mansion of my heart,

Grandpa’s place- my childhood chalked in its lime washed walls, 

Archaic bricks brown like bronze.

How I yearn to be back on the rocking chair, 

The ancient clock clicking and ticking, 

Grandpa reading Mahabharata in baritone

While I lie in a trance, in a dream, listening to him,

The sun searing through the garden, the skylight a flash of gold.

The holy mystic magic of myths and hymns 

Misted in the somnolence, sun soaked afternoon.

Now, it’s speckled dust in the haze of times, a smog

Of memorable sunny days swishing in gentle breeze;

Everything seems washed down in rain.