small memories of pre-spring

Small Memories of Pre-spring

tuesday morning

the fourteenth

phalguna

it's dusk,

we're standing in our balcony 

waiting for papa’s return.

he's bringing home our very own new scooter.

the breeze moves shyly around our forms

as we watch sparrows snuggle deeper into tree shadows, singing bedtime lullabies

and hear peals of laughter from children playing downstairs.

when papa comes, he honks

and we rush out the door with our pooja thali.

in the parking, we anoint the  scooter with a swastik, light a lamp,

and make the moment auspicious. 

there's a box of mithai to sweeten the celebration

mayur takes saanjh for a little ride around our block.

high up in the sky, a new moon and a bright star

lighten the darkening sky

and make our evening even more special. 

. . .

days that are simple

that make me feel

quietly fulfilling me as i'm. doing what i do.

mopping floors, sunning plants,

making spice tea for my sick girl,

maneuvering our living around a tight budget,

seeping with unwritten poetry,

sewing from old things,

loosing myself in my own darkness,

and letting tears kindle me into light.

. . .

with phālguna, the indian year

is slowly coming to a close.

everyday i rise to the morning birds

incessantly rehearsing their spring song.

and the lone mango tree on the hill

turning red-brown with young leaves.

i sit this afternoon, making notes

for my new customised hindu calendar

even as the wind, moving between our curtains, begins to play a vasanta rāga.