My Grandfather's Portrait

 Hung, on the white wash wall in the verandah

Of my house

My grandfather’s portrait

There, old, but fresh and clean.

White cap,  Nehru wore

White pyjama and piron

Khadi woven

A holding stick, made of cane

Bend in its holding and  iron ring in the end.

Small eyes and bulging cheeks

Those ripen moustaches

Curled…..

My grandfather’s portrait

Hung there still, since my childhood

Standing in soft blue background.

Not speaking a word, and

I  have heard none.

The only portrait of my grandfather

When I see transports me to the past

Where my grandfather tried hard and soul

To bring his family unite

My grandfather’s portrait

Hung there still and silent

Not speaking a word

Watching us do our job, never speaking a word.

In our sadness, he don’t cry

In our jokes, he don’t laugh

In our happiness, he don’t smile

Because he has done a lot before

A lot for his future generation

My grandfather’s portrait

The idol of our home

My grandfather’s portrait,

Hung there fresh and still

Never speaking a word

Silently watching us do our job.