Naughty Kites that once flew into the horizons
The faint aroma of a robusta, rightly brewed
The smell of Jasmines buds, recently sprinkled
The big temple bells’ chime
An old Morris minor, polished chrome gleaming
My English teacher’s lipstick
Grandma reciting grand tales from the Mahabharata
A long competing hooting bout with a Cuckoo
A short rare one with a crow pheasant.
Thoma on his ancient cycle, selling fish
Eliamma’s six felines courting Thoma all the time.
Green from the paddy fields of yore
Red from the fiery musandas
Yellow from the April showers
White from my grandmas starched mundu
Love from your letters
Reached out and colored
All of my remembered universe
Until I safely stored them
For another lifetime.
The cities have invaded our kind countrysides
Grandma is no more
And the kids of today
Don’t bother with real kites.
We will meet again
And rebuild our little lives
One cobblestone at a time
A path, a pavement, a crossroad at a time.