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 just I from now on. Us together, has turned impossible. For, he decided not to go sportive anymore. The cricket stumps we planted have sprouted leaves and borne fruit. The paddy plants have withered into oblivion. Death has taken their place in the form of rubber trees.

The twin goddesses of the temple that stood at long-off, on our cricket field, have left for good. The pond seems to have been wailing all along. Tears have run dry, leaving green moss to look up to me with woe. The sweating path under the afternoon sun, call me back as I look up to the terrace where he lay. I long-whistle to him twice, as I used to, when we were kids. The response always used to be a third return-whistle that announced our gaming schedule for the day. 

The cashew tree behind me has a better view of the terrace, and she prompts me to turn around and go back home. He would never be back, she whispers in my almost deaf ears. I decide to walk back. The grass clad path brushes against my toes, in a bid to make me feel better. For, it knows, I have lost a brother.

A brother who I left behind as I went pursuing my dreams. When I was back on home terrain, he walked off, never to return. Up there, from atop the terrace, he must have surveyed the pond, the paddy fields, the cashew branch, the courtyard where he and I regaled as kids, once upon a time. And then, the final journey must have come about.

The terrace is now empty, with just the courtyard's heaving sighs echoing once in a while. The cashew branch we sat face to face munching on those juicy cashew apples, shed a dozen leaves.  And, they drench my soul.