A host is to be told
While speaking of House holds lore
A serial of glory
The greatness of tradition
Fostered by 'Grandma lores'
My grandpa Kesav was hero of men
When they chopped all those forests
Hill tops and burned off to clear them
To thatch their humble huts to live on this Earth.
Holding four borders, building fortress,
Digging dungeons deep,castles and step stones,
Led war tours, en famed at home
A hundred times,
Madhav, my grandpa, a true hero then...
Titles they amassed by paying 'king's bounty'
Granted at times with ordains to collect tax;
Even when systems changed
This household itself did stand
Like a stone, and flourished on...
These, my grandma recalled
while feasting her birthday last.
The story thus heard
The Zamorines and Kolathiris
Chera, Pandya, Pillai Earldoms
All flourished and ruled
By the courtesy of the great
Grand dads of ours.
Heard in the grandma's lore
Fed up by the vast scenery of
Tax-free got farm lands and fields
They who succeed
turned to be slaves of laze.
Slept in slum-huts, quaffing toddy
Playing dice, Speculating
Dealing harsh and hard,
Got and given (being beaten and beating)
Generations passed by and
The grand household succumbed to
A little hut....
The tale goes on thus
Heard in grandma lores.
Leaking in rain and damp
Soaked in mud and filth
Wakened in light again
Roaming with out job
Struggling in hunger
Stories to chew again to en fresh memory
I too hear the story of my household,
My grandma's lore.
"Wake up, leave this rapture of,
Listening to these tailless tales
And seek where there is work,
I too will come.... "
Holding my hands, pushing me on
Says my kid Unnikuttan.
Have the forefathers reborn here again
Yearning to turn over a new history
For the house, by blooming again?
Working alone will bring forth wealth
If he senses it at the age of five
Indeed he is a great Grandpa.
Coming down to the light,
Freshening memory,
Seeking work I go...
Hearing the household's lore
Hearing the 'Grandma lore'.
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