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.
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