The memories which descended unhindered earlier
Triggered by the sight of a clear blue sky
Or the fragrance of the cadamba flower
Are now struggling to come easily by
Laborious becoming each new try.
The bright and sunny mornings of these months
Accompanied with the cool eastern breeze
That carries the remnants of the rain
Also a hint of winter as its steps gain.
The childhood memories of the Puja etched
Hard in mind, heart and reinforced over years
Of the times when frolic took precedence
When harm hadn’t been done to people known
That’s a legacy I shall with pride forever own.
Humongous time has flown in the vast swathes
Nearing a decade and half of everything added
Having been removed from the natural habitat
Added layers to life like an oil-on-canvas art.
But now the days on the skin feels warmer
The infidel breeze is inconsistent
The winter almost lost like an estranged friend
Autumn fragrance probably reached its end.
Not to be seen those eyes of goddess
The aroma of heavy incense not emanating
Nowhere bamboos tied to make ‘gates’
The colorful clothes on it not draped
Strings of lights all around no more laced.
The numerous balloons we bought
The chaat, the chowmein, the ice cream
The many pistols with rolls of bullets
Bought with generous funding of family
Now the money can buy few things
But clipped are all the childhood wings.
The mirth in a house full of people missing
No laze of the morning, late night gossips
The platters, the sweet now non existent
Sneaking away many times to the festivity
Now confined to unforced captivity.
The memory I feel is slowly fading away
The strength of aroma in mind diluted
The mirth drowned in puddle of worries
The visuals either blurred or absent
Though these haven’t reached cent percent.
All of it, the bundle of emotions now remain
As schema, the packets, in long term memory
Which shall get triggered now and then
When such a time of the year comes
But revisiting is impractical, impossible
For reliving past moments is not plausible.