I Mark time

The winters are painful in your absence
You are not around, you are not mine anymore
The pranks we pulled, the secrets we shared
All seem to have vanished

Those games we played and the bruises you gave
Have been closer to me than memories of greater life events
I look at them with love of a glorious childhood we had together
Those fights weren’t fights those hate spats weren’t hatred
But love in retrospect

And today the bruises you have given me
Though not carnal are deeper than all scars I bear
But they hurt me, they sting me
Your silence and your untraceable thoughts kill me
I am scared to love else and I may soon forget to trust

There was bearing in every look of yours, I felt safe then but vulnerable today
Today I tremble at a future staring at me
I hide behind every bend but I am spotted
Our separateness speak volumes of your absence
I cry and cry and cry and with a misty pair of eyes look for you

I grope for your hands I was entrusted into
I don’t feel them, I can’t reach them and I fall
In hope you’ll be back to help me up
And I touch the scar under my chin from that old fight of ours
And console a cheerless self that you’ll be back
Before the winter passes...

Why Gulmohar ?

In quietude and squally, dewy, drizzly entourage I am tucked away into ever widening thoughts. How can a picture, an image, an ambiance bring you fond memories? I have often wondered. Sometimes I open my old albums or dig out old letters and cards and I am transported into those days and times in my life which I have cradled fondly.

It is strange, every time I see or envision a Gulmohar tree (The Flame tree/Royal Poinciana) in full blossom I become extremely nostalgic. The magical crimson red and orange flowers enveloping the lush green leaves remind me of the warm hugs and protection one is blest with during their youth and yesteryears or childhood; where you live under the canopy of love and affection of your family and elders.

Now as I document this; one incident takes me back to my childhood days. I was walking down an alley alongside my grandmother clinging on to her forefinger making plans to go to the temple in the evening for she had said there will be "aanamama" [elephant(child speech form in Malayalam)] and she could get me permission to feed and touch the elephant. I was delighted because I knew she always kept her promises unlike my parents who would bribe me with luring promises to get me to do my home work and then forget about it unanimously. My grandmother, was a very influential and respectable lady. She was a retired head teacher and nobody refused her anything. Everywhere we went her old students and people greeted her and tenderly pulled my cheek and petted me.

Needless to say I felt on top of the world and secretly proud. I felt like a little princess. I kept looking at my grandmother and she would smile back at me as if to say "its OK, you are fine." We stepped out of the alley way which led to a bridge above a brook. We sat down by the bridge and enjoyed the cool breeze while I peered down to watch the fish underneath, and my grandmother took out her paan box and made herself a paan. Chewing her paan she asked me if I wanted to catch them and take them home?

My eyes gleamed impishly and she stepped down and picked me up and carried me down. She set me down in the cool and crystal clear water of the brook and pulled off her "pallu" (the loose end of a sari) and gave me the loose end and she held on to her side. We waited quietly as instructed by her and the minute we saw a fish we would dip one edge and then slowly immerse the rest of the pallu and quickly scoop up the entire pallu when we were sure the fish is nearly captured but many a times they dodged us and as I grew impatient my grandmother would cuddled me and would reassure me telling me "try try till you succeed" and I obliged. Finally, we caught two at once and I wondered how to take them along? Of course, wasn't I fascinated to see my grandmother make a cone out of a colocasia leaf and she ladled in some water and as we put our catch of the day into the leaf cone with water, she kissed my forehead with her paan stained lips.

We walked back home and on our way back once in a while I would pull on my grandmother's sari and she would lower the cone down and I would be happy to see the fish swimming around in there. The cool breeze was even more enjoyable in my wet frock and sandals. As we approached home, I ran up ahead of my grandmother calling out to my cousins "meemi meemi!! "[fish fish!! (child speech form in Malayalam)]. We all ran back to my grandmother as she walked up to us, there was no end to my explanations and how "I" had caught them.

We later put them in the pond by the house and watched and fed them without fail for two days and forgot about it as we got busy with other adventures my grandmother had led us to.

When I returned to my parents after the glorious vacation I told them all about my days and how good it would be to go back there. Little did I know then how hard my parents had to work to make both ends meet.