My maternal grandmother for many years now has impressed many with her literary skills. Few people have grandmothers above 80 who can talk English, forget about flawless English, written in the form of poetry. She has written in the past more than probably a 100 poems on pieces of paper now turned yellow with age and often tucked away from the public eye within notebooks and diaries.
The most recent one, is about the Senior Citizens Club, of which she is a member. The club, based in Malleswaram, Bangalore is called “The Nightingale Club”. I read the poem and felt it was worthy of publicity because it is a well written poem, written by a person who deserves some appreciation for writing it at her age and also because the Nightingale club does a great job of making so many senior citizens feel special.
So here goes:
The Spirit of Nightingale
By
Jaya Sundararajan
Singing merry nightingales are we,
Always like this we will all be;
Young we are, in our minds,
Our thoughts, our desires, that binds;
Our ages, all above sixty
Limit though, is five and fifty;
Active we are, forgetting our age,
How old we are none can gauge;
Some of us are heard, not seen;
Talkative souls, we’ve always been;
When others talk, some enjoy,
Smiling of course, expressing joy;
Counting beads, sitting in corners,
Now, want to be roamers;
Dull days, for the aged, ahead,
Are for the books, to be read;
Lack we not in social work,
Spending for a cause, we’ll not shirk;
Slums and old age homes, we visit,
Spreading happiness, we never desist;
Reviews, comments and criticism will be duly passed on.
NRI Maami 