Yes, there is a place for you and me…

If you like poetry, you must read this one…It is simple, touching and very sweet in an old-fashioned way that I cannot describe since I find it extremely difficult to write about poetry. The poem closes with a line that is chilling in its implication, scary in the picture that rises before your eyes… we have so much to be thankful about.

“Refugee Blues”

Say this city has ten million souls
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:
Yet there’s no place for us, my dear, yet there’s no place for us.

Once we had a country and we thought it fair, Look in the atlas and you’ll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.

In the village churchyard there grows an old yew, Every spring it blossoms anew:
Old passports can’t do that, my dear, old passports can’t do that.

The consul banged the table and said,
“If you’ve got no passport you’re officially dead”:
But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.

Went to a committee; they offered me a chair; Asked me politely to return next year:
But where whall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day?

Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said; “If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread”:
He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.

Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky; It was Hitler over Europe, saying, “They must die”:
O we were in is mind, my dear, O we were in his mind.

Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin, Saw a door opened and a cat let in:
But they weren’t German Jews, my dear, but they weren’t German Jews.

Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay, Saw the fish swimming if they were free:
Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away.

Walked through a wood, saw birds in the trees; They had no politicians and sang at their ease:
They weren’t the human race, my dear, they weren’t the human race.

Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors, A thousand windows and a thousand doors:
Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.

Stood on a great plain in the falling snow; Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:
Looking for you and me, my dears, looking for you and me.

— W. H. Auden

In other news, we moved this weekend to our own home. It is a home that is large by our standards since I was born and raised in Bombay where 2 BHK flats are expensive and sometimes, unaffordable. This new home has two levels, a sloping backyard and a small lawn in the front. There is a huge master bedroom with a walk-in closet and two guest rooms on the first level. On the ground level is a beautiful living room and a dining room and an attached sun-room. It’s taking some time getting used to living in such a large place. If the cell-phone rings, I’ll have to first run around trying to locate it. Last night, I felt so thirsty and yet I didn’t drink water since I’d have to go downstairs to get it. That apart, it feels nice to have good working space in the kitchen. Even more attractive is the idea of growing our own vegetables, what a dream, huh?

Haven’t taken many pictures yet; there are too many boxes scattered around. Once I have the home in some semblance of order, I’ll post some pics.

Surprisingly, there is no feeling of exhiliration or pride. It is our first home, I agree. So what? There are more milestones that I have felt emotional about. I was happy in our rented apartment and I shall be happy in this new home as well!