Summers with my mother

Veins of leafy plants creeping and Peeping from the cracks in the wall of stone As the koyal sat regally and chirped On its wooden branch of a throne Out in the veranda sitting Cross legged as you tugged My messy long tresses with coconut oil And made that wretched braid I loathed The smell of ripe mangoes lingered In the summer air and starry night As I lay on my back on the folding bed-which was as ancient as my grandma- And tried to decipher those stars in all my childlike might Running barefoot in the haveli corridors Built in that old colonial style Chasing you as you outran me in your sarree Almost as if I was chasing my dreams I remember the playful teasing As you became a child with me I also picture grandma's white haired bun And the flyaway hair coming loose as she chased after me I remember those lazy peaceful afternoons When dreams exceeded reality It was a droning hum of a life I miss it all so dearly So whenever I want to go back to you, mum To visit those summer glows I just close my eyes and think of that haveli And once again I smell the mangoes

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ridhima-dutta

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