(Once upon a time bullock carts were a common sight on our Indian roads. Now, in the change of tide, these carts are swept ashore. Here in this poem, a bullock cart is recollecting its breezy days. The last eight or twelve lines apply to the nostalgic feelings of the reader as well. Thus, two planes of reading is possible) . <br /> <br />Once upon a time <br />When the winds were soft, <br />Among the endless dales <br />I was a common sight. <br /> <br />Once upon a time <br />When the winds weren’t smoky, <br />Up along the roads <br />I was an endless traveller. <br /> <br />Endless clatter of wheels, <br />The pathways crammed under my feet. <br />With a song unto the flying birds <br />I wheeled on unto the distant markets. <br /> <br />From hamlets to distant towns, <br />Those were my breezy days. <br />When I arrived on the scene <br />The markets sprang to life. <br /> <br />Day and night, up along the road, <br />I was on an endless trot. <br />We were our cartmen’s breathing life, <br />We were the breathing winds of the hamlets. <br /> <br />A flying bird followed our beaten ways, <br />A swinging lantern marked our pathways. <br />Rain or shine, our wheels were perfect, <br />Unto nights and beyond, we knew no rest. <br /> <br />For long I was the symbol of Indian life, <br />For long I carried her on my wheels. <br />It was a silent revolution on the Indian scene <br />My bullocks took her to glorious heights. <br /> <br />And upon the roar of the motor age <br />I was driven to my perils. <br />Before the clock of modern age, <br />My wheels picked up no pace. <br /> <br />And I disappeared over the winding lea, <br />My peaceful sojourns were now over. <br />Where is now the winds of yore gone? <br />Where is now my flying wheels gone? <br /> <br />From the corner of the world <br />I am dreaming of the distant dales. <br />I wish I had my wings <br />To pace along the forgotten avenues of life.<br /><br />Ravi Panamanna<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-endless-traveller/
