We gifted a heritage to our young ones
And by continuity to their young ones
But is this what we intended to gift?
Is this what they would have wished?
Having grown up in quieter times
We gave rise to a noisier time
Having gown up to panchtantra tales
We gifted kids with missile planes
We went to bed hearing grandma’s stories
And introduced kids to showbiz glory
Early to bed and early to rise made us wise
Late to bed and late to rise taught them laze”n’ uprise
We heard the radio for music and news
Their ears exposed to languages of all hatred and abuse
But is this what we intended to gift?
Has this made their childhood cherished?
We had one, two or five toys and we were rich
We give them the world & they say, “you only preach”
We had learnt to value our oxygen with pranayama
And they learnt that pranayama is a treatment balm
We were sent out to play in open grounds
We gifted them the pandemic amid close surrounds
Breathe not free, they are all masked and hooded
What kind of heritage we gifted this planet
The cow and the pig, the date and the fig were significant
Yet, now these become symbols of abuse imminent
We were taught respect for elders and each other
They behave not like ONE, brother killing brother
Where did we go wrong?
Why did we lose happy song?
Where did we lose sight?
Why did we gain plight?
Where did our plans err?
Why do we seek the power chair?
A heritage that sucks thriving on the bucks
Caring not for humans nor for the ducks
We grew up learning lessons of conservation
Yet they saw us as hoarders & a selfish generation
We learnt to worship Nature for it’s gifted abundance
But nurtured them to wasteful means of affluence
We missed the valuable lessons of morality
We failed to educate them to their inner spirituality
We now feel saddened, utterly threatened
When our kids grow up digitally patterned
Kids as young as four or five years in age
Are refrained, confined in the home cage
They attend school wearing their tiny masks
Depriving them of all the freedom of sun basks
The sports becoming dangerous, no more adventurous
When fear of losing them to the virus overpowers us
Is this the Heritage we wished as their lineage?
Will they be proud of us, as we are of our parents?
With lowering levels of brotherhood and tolerance
The ethics and morals losing all prominence
We practiced life skills for passion and survival
Yet nourish them to all means of competitive appraisal
Sikiladi
Sikiladi 
Dear Monica
Deep is our search for the right path
For simplicity is not an obvious path
Innocence we had has been replaced
The only thing is uncertainty we trace
Can I go to school? Yes mask and go
In the parents heart we let safety go
Swimming pools and home visits let go
Mono lingual, other tongues we now forgo
Cyberspace, on line on the screen
That is what my young ones see
Mum on the computer, siblings too
Eye contact and smiles are too few
My children, a gift but are not mine
Life’s longing for something divine
Like a bow we pull and let them go
Pray God that to the right they flow
This is our hope for years to come
Only uncertainty is there in our home
We are now resilient to uncertainty
Does it open us up to sheer eternity
Smarter, worldly wise full of new device
This is the new generation I advice
Collaborating, unafraid of the new
They march on in a heritage so new
Hope we must, it’s a perfect world?
The question just remains
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Thank you Shariffa ji for this lovely poem.
They march on to the new Heritage
Oblivious of digital spillage
On their minds, on their souls,
They live life in calculative mileage
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Covid, crisis, confusion, have left my coping mechanism dry
Computers, cyberspace, have stolen connection
What is the solution?
What heritage have I left?
Fast food, fast solutions
So lonely and disconnected?
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That’s exactly my point.
What a Heritage they receive from us
Kids left with no place to make a fuss
Stranded indoors, scared and masked
Day in, day out, maps and charts
Schools have submerged on a screen
Playtime shrunk to fingerful play….
….Using the mechanical magic….
…of the Silicon world!!
It’s a pity! It’s a shame!
Our young ones — and their young ones
Have lost free spaces, have lost playful game!
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