‘The boy from the weavers land ‘
He was born in the land of weavers.
hose of his uncles and grandfathers created drapes.
drapes for the poor drapes for the rich.
drapes with the cotton. drapes with the silk.
Drapes with the gold and silver with the peacock and parrots.
with the elephants and the horses in procession.
the jungles weaved together with the love and patience with years of handwork.
he is the patience he is the love the boy.
Yes is not a weaver indeed he had it in his genes his ancestors saw the king’s marriages the Maratha ceremonies filled with silks emeralds rubies and the gold.
the ladies in the courts draped themselves in those silvers and the silk while the wardrobes of the princess filled with the finest of drapes in golds and alas the newly married groom in her greens and reds pinks ad indigoes. the queen to be.
He is from the land of those weavers he is indeed strong still soft-spoken
he knows to connect to the people around still feels isolated
he wants to go walking the paths which connect countries.
He is a painter who has a girl of his dreams.
his mind filled with the clear skies with no boundaries around.
he who knows to gather threads and weave his dreams with colors.
he who draws her in his lines softhearted
he is not a weaver himself yet he has a heart of a weaver.
Author: Bhavna Sonawane