AT CROSS-ROAD

On my early morning walks-Jogging along the quiet road
I always crossed them en-route-Holding hands, deep engrossed
The acquaintance graduated to a hurried greeting
The old man nodding - the young boy waving
The boy seemed always full of queries
The grandpa gamely answered or parried
The old man looked serene- content
His pride and love for the child- too evident
After a distance the road split in two
A signboard stood at the junction to view
My companions usually halted there
Occasionally I joined them for a breather
The old man fondly watched the boy
Who hopped around or cried in joy
One day I saw the old man; alone on the path
'Where is the kid? Down with fever or what?'
His steps were no more sprightly
His shoulders stooped and he looked lonely
He smiled weakly and indicated the road
They wanted modernity; so went abroad
I didn't quite know what to say
So fell in step with him and stayed
When the crossroad came in view, the old man sighed
'I thought I had passed all the turns, but life again surprised
Such is my destiny from which I cannot digress
I wish them well and wait for death-the only release from distress.

~Jayanti Sinha~