House Visit

I went there again today,

The plants I taught my-

Third standard lessons,

Tiny rooms with choir mats

And a long verandah that looked

Almost like a dream 

My mother wove,

They've all remained the same,

Without alterations.

I walked the backyard with my aunt,

The new lotus pond and 

Her kitchen garden

The temple that overlooked 

The huge mango tree

Has become affectionate remains 

Of an off-track history.

Bartered land and 

English medicines,

A new plastic tap, 

A European closet 

And few glass plates their-

Souvenirs.

I remember the days,

The sleepless summers

They collected mangoes under 

Persian torch lights,

The occasional scooters

And auto-rickshaws

That scated the narrow orange road

And the bubbles I made 

With kids next door

From gums of little plants.

I have outgrown those images

But nostalgia is a nice feeling.