The relic ; Napowrimo prompt 2 April 2

The Relic

The Relic of a house, topsy turvy
clinging precariously to the banks of the Jhelum,
 humming some long forgotten songs
of the sylvan past;   our ancestral house,
 renovated and called The Relic by my dad.  
The handsome man, who looked on
with his merrily twinkling eyes
as the house was rebuilt bit by bit,
with mom’s wise suggestions thrown in,
like welcome garnishing.   

There on the tottering bridge, Kani Kadal,
one of the bridges of Srinagar,
 that ill-clad balladeer, [Hasan, I think, his name was],
used to sing some long forgotten songs,
 and some spontaneous outpourings ,
his long flowing beard   moving  rhythmically  
with the intensity of his emotions .

Once I collided against him on the bridge,
and he looked at me with sad, sad eyes,
Ah, those sad, sad eyes.

 That corner shop,
where men and women congregated all times of the day,
fronted our house and the River Jhelum,
squinting in the noonday sun.

The people bought things between juicy bits of gossip.
The balladeer would slowly walk towards them,
singing a song, looking around with sad, sad eyes.
Ah, those sad, sad eyes.
 Down below in the Jhelum, the splash of oars,
 the music of rippling and roaring waves
and the friendly curses exchanged between the houseboat owners,
mixed with the balladeer’s verses created a symphony,
which  often wafts across to me even now,   crossing distances and time
making me  recall that bedraggled balladeer,
 soulfully singing a song, looking around with sad, sad eyes.
Ah, those sad, sad eyes.