And Then, The Cashew Tree Shed a Dozen Leaves
The courtyard that once regaled in our antics has fallen mute. Thorny bush and fallen twigs now hold the space to ransom. No laughter, no rejoicing, as the house in the middle draws a deep breath as I walk towards it. The disappointment, I gather, is due to the fact that it is just I, not We, that walk towards the house that have seen four footsteps run in and out in unison, for long. I stop. The terrace above beholds, beckons. The terrace I would never want to climb on to! The elevated platform, just a flight of steps above the ground where we once planted tapioca stumps and bowled against with tennis balls. The cursed space where he lay lifeless! A call away lay, as if breathing her last, the pond that let us swim into her womb. The post-harvest paddy fields where we shed all teen inhibitions to sprint, jump, dive, climb, swim and fight, shed tears as I look yonder. For, they all had expected Us - both of Us together - to have come calling. But then, it is jus