Stand Together

Long long time ago in an age far far away...... nope I'm not reciting a fairy tale.  Ahem... Long long time ago in an age far far away (perhaps not so long ago) I used to write poetry which made sense to no one except me. I remember I was in 7th standard, 11 yrs of age. I wrote a small four line poem and showed it to my English teacher. It went something like this "Oh heavenly bodies...." Yep about stars in a sky like any 11 year old would imagine. Coming back to the teacher she didn't believe a single word of what I had wriiten and instead complained to my dear mother that I had copied it from some one. It couldn't have come from my pen she said (I was supposed to be dumbest in the class). Now that was a blow so back then I gave up with my first poem itself. My fingers began to itch once again two years later and this time I didn't show the poems to anyone, kept them secret under lock and key but unfortunately my younger sister found the key and looo.... all ...

Yesterday was All Soul's Day and I always go to the graveyard where my ancestors are buried to lay flowers on their graves. The newest addition being my Dad's grave. But I'm not going to write about something grave and sad. The graveyard or cemetary where my folks are buried is an ancient one. Every time I take a round in the cemetary I'm amazed (by the way I've been doing this since I was three years old). The old graves are so beautiful and magnificient. Most of them are the graves of Britishers. There is a grave of a certain Mr. James Macphearson next to my grandfather's grave. It has a magnificient Cross and an Angel clinging to the  Cross. Sheer beauty in marble. A bit farther away is the grave of a certain Mrs. Florence Hilliers. She must've been a beautiful woman as her grave has her own statue holding a wreathe standing on it. Brilliant piece of art!  But alas! There is no one who lays flowers on these beautiful graves. I and my sisters always take e...