My Roots

I call them roots
The roots that struck long before
I even realised
The roots that can smell the soil
And the water
And find their way
Even when there was none in sight.

I call them roots.
And today I came looking
For mine
The herds of deer were no different today
They came sprinting to the fence
To the smell,
Can't tell if they sniffed our presence
Or the smell of bread
But the calves that came running as well
To meet their ilk - across the fence
Rang in a smile on my face
As though they had come looking
For their roots!

I call them roots.
The river seemed full,
And kissing the other bank too
Seemed too full for Cuttack April,
It's not in a hurry today
And in the low light
At a distance a lone raft waded through
in a matching pace
The pious man's dip in warm waters
And the ringing of bells in the temple behind
Seemed to remind of years gone by
And the roots that've stayed in tact.

I call them roots.
A freshly laid red coated pavement
Seemed to suggest a red carpet welcome
For one of their own
We couldn't miss the trees by the banks,
Half lit by the street lamps
Among the lot stood a lone ranger
A familiar face
With solid trunk and the stocky branches
Spread wide and tall
Without a shade of a leaf
And still it stood firm, and sorted.
As I walked away I had a fading thought
Was it because of its roots?

As the dark gathered,
And the kids giggled and enjoyed,
Stepping on to our footsteps' shadows
Under the sodium street lamps,
By Cuttack's river banks
I remembered the walks many moons back -
Connecting to my roots,
And watching the new crop
Strike theirs!


© Sashikant Mohanty