A Limerick of Courage.

                I am 72, an age when one waits not for the morning but for the night. I think a lot nowadays, sitting in the veranda of my little house when I let my memories roam freely. During a recent ruminating afternoon, I saw my neighbour, Savitri, hobbling down the road.

                “Biting the nails as usual?” she called out as she entered the jasmine-arched gate. Savitri is a cheerful soul, though she is racked by arthritic pains. “Stir yourself now. I am taking you to a friend’s home.” Being two years older, Savitri feels she has the right to order me about.

                 Savitri’s friend was charming but it was her daughter Vani, who struck a chord in my heart. Vani was a lovely girl, intelligent, yet soft and gentle. She showed me beautiful sketches, unusually designed birthday cards, doggerels and limericks---there seemed no end to her creativity. I noticed that she limped but decided to enquire about it later.

                 “Can you write a limerick in my young friend Sarat Rao’s honour?” I asked her. “It is his birthday next week.” “That would be fun,” she replied. “Describe him to me.” After I did so, she disappeared into her room and returned some time later with a beautifully bordered letter paper on which was inscribed:

There was a gentleman called Rao

With peace writ over his brow

He loved flowers and trees

And the scent in the breeze

His garden was paradise enow!

                  “That suits him perfectly. Thank you.” I said.

                On our way back, Savitri explained the limp. “She is a brilliant research student. A rash biker knocked her down six months ago. She has been through major surgery and painful physiotherapy sessions.”

And I had thought that the young had nothing to give me!