kulakaar

the pond
we ran to
the stones
we skipped
the records
set each summer
to be broken
the next

the sun
the rays
it bounced
and the wind
it rippled
patterns ever
expanding
we gaped
with wonder

that small statue
of the goddess
just above
the water line
we left her flowers
plucked from
our garden
started swimming
only after seeking
her permission

the sturdy
jackfruit tree
which spanned the pond
made
a good diving board
some hit
the water flat
some showed off
a somersault
or two

the betel nut trees
planted in a pattern
their leaves
not touching
the other
social distancing
we call it now
our whispers
the wind picked up
the gossip
spread fast
soaked in our blood
and sweat
the trees grew
out of bounds
each year

flanked by
a boundary
made of stone
and a banyan
tree
with its many arms
provided a swing
we learnt to
let go
at the precise moment
the wall
was rendered
irrelevant

the trees
still whisper
tales of our time
of the way we were
guardians of legends
and all our yarns
our laughter
still rings true
in that
magical grove
the pond is quieter now
the goddess
stands guard
she must miss that
jackfruit tree
as do I