Born in the factory,
up there – near the hills,
I enjoyed my journey to the ‘quiet place‘.
Or so I thought.
Alas! there it was.
Before I knew it,
the clicks of my handle surrounded my ear’s gaze.
All I heard was the chitter and chatter,
of young students with no loss in pace,
the gossip about a classroom session, often more than banter.
I finally knew, I had found a new place.
I knew no address when I landed here
And now I know everything, about the space,
the “It’s so hot in here”,
or “Oh my, it’s pouring” always followed by a place.
Someone said “Manipal” and the other said “The rains!”
And that’s when I knew where my canopy set ablaze!
The showers are so unpredictable, my use so often,
A drought seemed better for those who couldn’t handle the rains.
Some liked the summer heat,
the others, the breeze in their mane.
All through it all,
From Bengal to Manipal, the use of me has not been vague.
The humid planes and plateaus bid no byes to me,
To your dismay, I shall be serving you for your day.
I’m always in use, from B’lore to the Bay.
Not a day am I left pristine;
Thanked for most, but surely cursed
In the hours the clouds hit the worst.
With the click of a button or the clench of a clip,
hustling through the sunny or the rainy days,
I open my wings and give you shelter from the scorching sun or the mild drizzle.
“Manipal” – I heard the place, it truly is a magical space;
A day of summer, to a day of rain.
Written by Tarini Sai Padmanabhuni for MTTN
Edited by Radhika Krishna for MTTN
Featured Image by pixels.com
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