Migratory Birds Seeing Their Lost Dream On Phone!

Distant Rain: A Migrant's Longing

Sometimes, lost dreams of younger days have a greater impact on us. We would have thought a lot about our future. Sometimes, we forget them and sometimes remember, but the dreams never come true. It’s all part of life.

People who leave abroad for a job may choose the path willingly or unwillingly. They may find the new country much better than India. But still, some days make them nostalgic and make them think if their choice to leave was the right one. Sometimes, they even feel like going back home. It’s just like the homesickness of a kid living in a hostel.

No matter what, we must feed our family; we are often left with zero choices. And going back is never an option. This poem is dedicated to people living in a foreign country but whose minds are strongly connected to their native country. It’s more like leaving your love and living with someone else, but still, your mind goes back to those old days even though you know you can never go back!

The poem I am writing was sparked by a conversation with a friend from God’s country, Kerala. Like me, he is a rain lover. He has migrated to the Gulf with his wife and children decades back. The conversation was about the recent rain in South India, and he talked about how he heard the rain while talking to his mother on the phone. So why not write a poem about it? I thought!

Distant Rain: A Migrant’s Lost Dream

Nowhere could I find a job in my homeland?
My debts were on the rise, and I had no way
Crossing borders to a land that wasn’t mine
I am lost here in the maze of survival

Reminiscing the good old days in India
I chew the snacks from my kith and kin
How long will they remember me?
And how long can I taste this distant memory?

The rainy aroma and the music of dancing droplets
All I watch and hear in the box my hand holds
Without it, I would have lost my very essence
But how long will it stick to my ageing hand?

Wish my fate could bring my legs back to the old soil.
But where could I get money to feed my growing family
Hands tied, unwillingly, I lock myself in a distant country.
I am rooted here as days pass, and my way back is lost.

written by
Shalini Samuel

Our country is highly populated, and there are fewer job opportunities. But still, I hope everyone who wishes to live here can realize their lost dream. May God bless this country abundantly.


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *