yes,
you may miss a little glimpse
of
our village-temple’s god, the Thakoreji,
we
all labored to build brick by brick.
a
bowl of water from the village-well,
your
young uncle died beneath while digging it.
the
playground at the village crossroads,
your
brother swept so clean.
the
sweet fruits of that orchard
i
planted while I was pregnant with you.
the
flames of the holi of savarnasy our father lighted
as
a ritual servant
which
we get to see from the top of our huts.
the
mouth-watering taste of the sweetmeats
cooked
on diwali in the house of our kanbi-master,
whose
names i dare not know and you would ask me repeatedly.
the
friendship of the son of our village-headman
you
very much long to play tops with.
the
nagar-bride you will like to fall in love with
when
you reach your adolescence
looking
at her heena-dyed feet.
dear
Pappu,
the
whole world is yours, by the way.
not
only the earth, but the sun and the moon are yours,
except
such little earthly things
that
we are not allowed by our caste-Hindu patrons !
No comments:
Post a Comment