Summer Vacation

Pic Credit: Google Images

Ding…ding…ding…ding

Was the sweetest sound at eight,

As we cheered and shoved and pushed out of the class,

Long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait.

The clanking trollies of ice lollies

The sweet calls of the berry vendors,

Colorful frams, kiss me toffies and the loly pops,

And that one rupee coin with which I bought it all.

I came in running and threw the bag aside

It seems you’ll never need those books again,

Came mother’s chiding voice as she stared at me in surprise,

And I just smiled for,

Long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait.

As the morning sun filled the room with light

And at seven the drawing room clock chimed,

I woke up chirpy and bright,

Clad in a pale blue frock, said, here I come and smiled.

That gigantic black gate was as daunting as it could be

And the quiet growling of ‘Sheroo’ was paralyzing me,

Sapna? Sapna?! I somehow mustered,

She’s still asleep came a frail voice and I sighed,

For long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait.

My happy morning was spent sulking

And to make it worse mother suggested some reading,

Thank god it was time for breakfast,

As grandpa, had started to show the types of cursive handwritings.

Three long lessons of prose and poetry

And summer vacation looked miserably long,

Lalsa? Lalsa, where are you? Came the voice,

And fell in my ears like the morning dew.

Why are you so late? I wanted to shout

But the dolls in Sapna’s hands made me forget it all,

The far end of the terrace was long waiting for us,

Guarding us from the noon sun stood the neighboring mango tree, tall.

Tea was made and lunch was prepared

Tiny pebbles were rice and the mango leaves were the flat bread,

We took turns and went to office,

But not once we agreed when it came to doing the dishes.

The Sun was no more overhead

And the shadow of the mango tree fell on the other end,

Heat had risen and mother’s patience dropped,

Lalsa? Sapna? Sapna? Lalsa?! Were the angry calls,

That made us scared.

Waiting at the gate were our mothers

Exasperations and sighs were made very clear,

Enough already! It’s time you both came home.

But mother! But mom! Was the unanimous implore.

Mothers were determined and we too were hungry

So, at five?

Oh…yes, on the ground I said,

And we were quick to agree.

Four hours of playing was not enough!

Mothers wondered

We simply smiled

As the long and bright summer vacation lay ahead in wait for us.

It’s not you, it’s me!

It’s not you, it’s me

The red rug that faded over the years

The curtain rings which silently chipped away

The corner window that brings no breeze

That lone pot which once bloomed yearns no more.

They all said, it’s not you, it’s me!

The boiling tea, the cracked mugs

The stale smell of those peanut butter cookies

The dried grease, the rust coating on the stove

And that guilty looking three-legged stool croaked.

It’s not you, it’s me!

The empty flower bed and that dried patch in the lawn

That quietly hiding squirrel, that accusing little parrot

The constant dripping of the garden faucet

The glaring sheen of the iron gate.

They all said, it’s not you, it’s me!

The tiresome walk and the stones along the road

The echo of the mountains and those streams of muddy water

The quietness of the night

And the silent thumping of my heart.

They all said, it’s not you, it’s me!

The dark sky became darker

And soon came down the sleet and the rain

The corner window was no more quiet

And the lone pot made enough noise.

The rain did not come alone

Brought along a friend

The soft and silent

Pearly and pale flakes of snow.

As last the night had passed and sun had shone

And everywhere the blueness of the sky had poured

Birds sang and frolicked around

And the breeze blew up and down.

They all chose what felt right

And I stood by my pride

Brave heartedly I chose myself

And yes,

It’s not you, it’s me!