APRON STRINGS 107

When your children are infants
The bond is very tight,
They're on your mind each moment
Of every day and night.

You wonder how you'll manage
When they are not there,
When they no longer need - or want
Advice - concern and care.

The apron strings must be undone
And I think it is a good rule
To give the knots their very first nudge
Before your child starts school.

At first progress is very slow
So many knots must be undone
By the time your child is eighteen
You should be down to one.

You must loose the final knot
To prepare them for flight
But they must part the final strands
When they feel the time is right.

The apron strings are parted now,
But I always will maintain
No matter how long the knots have been free
The creases will always remain.

1988
To J and C (with love)

WADIA HOUSE AND WATER

Life in India has its aggravations
And we in Wadia House have ours too
They may not be global disasters, but
Minor trials are major, when they're happening to you.

Our main problem is water
It fills almost every waking thought,
Will we have a good supply today,
Or will everyone go short?

Twice a day the anguished drama
Rises to a stressful peak.
Has municipal water started to flow
Or has the mains pipe sprung a leak?

Then there's our old water pump,
It's temperamental and tired.
Though our mechanic does his best,
His skills leave a lot to be desired.

At last we hear the welcome sound
But too soon it fades away
The silent suspense is electric ...
Will we have another waterless day?

Advice and recriminations
Issue loudly from every door,
But our man is a robust individual
And of insults he has a goodly store.

At last we all hear with relief
The familiar vibration and thump -
Celestial choirs couldn't sound as sweet
As our clanking, rattling, ancient water pump.

Dedicated to my Wadia House friends with whom I shared
the daily drama. 

1994

RAJ TO REPUBLIC 105

Life was complex in the days between
Republic  and Raj,
As "now" and "today" gradually merged
With "ubhi" and "aaj".

From Indian culture we held aloof
Though we could speak the local tongue
Despite generations India born
To Western ways we clung.

As Indianization and emigration
Proceeded apace,
Our numbers fell and we became
A rapidly vanishing race.

Not everyone left India
As soon as independence came
We stayed on - finished school -
And life went on the same.

India never lets her children go -
No matter where they roam,
When you return to the land of your birth
You know you have come home.


From an Anglo Indian point of view.