The Homeland Dear

Homeland Dear

 

I crawled in bed with Nani many a night
To listen to her many tales of a homeland dear
I held to her to escape my night’s fright
Of her folktales and her childhood I would hear

Her delight she could never hide
With all those memories she would cheer
“What was it like Nani?” I asked wide-eyed.
She smiled and said, “Not like here.”

“Oh my child I wish you could feed
Upon the mangoes and melons we did
As large as my thumb was the melon-seed
The fruits of my Des were splendid

The fields were green and grass grew tall
Oh that scent of my Des in the rain.”
She came here and left it all
Her tales spoke both of longing and pain

My grandparents were both Gujarati
They boarded a ship and came here
From Junagadh all the way to Karachi
The ship sailed but their hearts did never steer

To them India was always Des
To them Pakistan was Watan
And to us it was a confusing case
How they loved the two as one

Hafsa Mahida

The author is a member and a regular contributor on Bookay, a Facebook group that brings readers around the world together.


The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Muslim World Today.


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