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Return to Innocence

My earliest memories are of sitting on a jackfruit tree and eating the fruit. My youngest sister would be hollering down there asking for her fair share of the fruit. The tree belonged to a relative of mine who himself was waiting for this particular jackfruit to ripen a little more. We finished it off without getting caught! 

When I was at college doing my English, there used to be panineer champa trees right next to the English department. Atleast twice a week, I used to be right on top of these trees, and there used to be an elaborate distribution network below. The fruits used to reach right up to the vice principal, Rev. Punchayil.

I and about six of my cousins (age range was from 8 to 21) would go out into the paddy fields in the night with Cadnica torches and hurricane lamps. We used to catch some 40 large green frogs and five or six cat fishes. Late into night, this group would return, divide the catch and have a great time next day with fried frogs and fish curry.

This was my growing up. Lots of open spaces, trees, paddy fields and pure fun. And then came higher salaries, with them inflation and cluttered spaces. I have more money, more things to buy but very little time...and very little space. The air I breath needs an ozone aircon to purify it. Someday, our kids will read about villages, paddy fields and guava trees in story books. Who would believe what they read in story books?

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And then, just like that, one fine day, I wake up, and she was gone.
As the train chugged out
The tracks cried out in senseless
creaks of half despair

Clarity

I have looked at myself
From the edges of reason
And discovered
That both my sanity and insanity
Springs forth like seasons
Out of my distances from you. Realizing thus
I have allowed the outer rims
Of my diffused sanity
To fritter away into crumbs
Of misplaced memories
From my time with you. I have often found myself being unreasonable
When I am away from you.
And generally insane
When otherwise.

Long Winter Chill

If I could do a Neruda,
You would have smelt of summer roses
And Autumn pine.
There would have been sheer love
Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache
And loneliness bordering the divine.
You would have had so many secrets
Welling up as in a girly giggle
And so few friends who would hear them all.I am no Neruda
I can't paint you a Summer breeze
Amidst this long winter chill.