I long for the India of my childhood—
Where faith was only faith, seen through secular eyes,
Where no one asked the last name of a friend in play,
Where Diwali sweets were shared, and from the same hands
came bowls of sevaiyaan in Eid delight—
How free was that India when childhood was mine!
I long for the India of my childhood—
Where patience to listen was still a gift,
Where minds differed but we dined from one plate,
And if words stung, we laughed the hurt away,
How mindful, how gentle, was that India of youth.
I long for the India of my childhood—
Where many tongues wove one conversation of smiles,
Where a gesture alone carried honor and respect,
Where no one feared the other—only reverence reigned,
How tolerant was that India of innocence.
I ache for the India of my childhood—
Where theft was seen through the lens of need,
Where violence gave way to compassion’s hand,
Where Usha and Farzana studied and played as one,
How human, how luminous, was that India of my youth.
Yes, I ache for the India of my childhood.
~ Dawn
