The story keepers

The morning stirs
And the rain slips through my bedside window
Dropping gently on the ground.
Bringing back days of youth, of music and food
To an otherwise abandoned piece of land
From Rampur, a small north Indian town.

It would come alive all winters
Past evenings and until midnight
With lights sober and bright
As the music played and the food was laid out.

The musicians arrived from around the country
With tunes their hearts desired, pop, light and classical,
The food stalls filled with chaats, kachoris and rolls,
Ice cream and cakes in corners.

The entire town would reach
Sons, daughters and their parents of many generations
Carrying years of rigor and fascination.
The air breathed with joy, filled with aroma.

All was possible and all was in doubt
As the food, music, hearts and minds combined
Bringing forth the story keepers of modern times.

Untimely rains adding to belief
That all could be set right and there would still be time.