Monday, November 7, 2016

warmth of my mother no. 6

Forefinger on the white, shining sand
Wrote lines of rounded alphabets.
Then the little tongue rolled out,
the pearls of polished sounds

Forefinger on the white, shining sand

Little feet walked on the learning road,
Through the maze of rounded writings, on shiny sand
Internalized the skill of speaking the right word,
Using the right alphabet and using the right hand

The skill of reading,
The joy of writing,
The ladder of learning,
Rattling off sentences,
With beautiful accuracy.....

Forefinger on the white, shining sand
Etched in my mind, the round , shapely alphabets,
With warmth of knowledge,
Of my mother tongue, forever….
Forefinger on the white, shining sand….


  1. I too started on my mother tongue with the forefinger on the white white sand. Such a beautiful memory..

    I was just not into anything for a while after the complete let down of the US elections. Slowly coming back to life through my favorite holidays. Good to see that I have quite a bunch of posts to read here. You too must feel the new vigor in your writing ss. Way to go!

    1. thanks lan
      Yes that forefinger on white sand.. a lasting memory isnt it ??

  2. WoW, this poem kindles my sentiments on my mother tongue too.

    Especially the trichur dialect of malayalam. I realise it is very very comforting.

  3. your poem is penned so well Rekha