Summer mornings

I close my eyes. I open a rickety green door. I step into the shade in front. The morning Sun’s bright and warm. The smell of Summer promises two more months of Joy. The Paarijatha tree’s still in spring mode with a few reluctant leaves here and there.

Sparrows chirp around the bird-holes on the neighbor’s wall with the lone Mynahs’ hole joining in the melee. The rice on the distant wall attracts Crows, while shrieking squirrels, tails wagging, await their turn. The Sampangi tree in the corner spreads its shade all over the compound, across the road and upon the neighbour’s courtyard. Its massive canopy brimming with life – sparrows, crows, mynahs and squirrels.

“Come fast” calls my brother, taking position at the gate, in the shade of the Sampangi tree, rubber ball in hand. I walk along, cocky, bat in hand to take stance under the Paarijatham.

I close my eyes.
All I want is to open them to Summer mornings.

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2 thoughts on “Summer mornings

  1. The Parijatha tree, small and weepy, the sampangi tree big and gentle. Don’t ask me why, by that is how I think of them. Two of them gently swaying to the breeze while everyone went about their business. They must have been cut when they built that granite monstrosity.

    1. I try not to think of that part. Was just talking to mom and she remembers the Parijatha being planted. But the Sampangi had always been there, as big. Must have been a few 100 years old? Can’t believe they cut that down for that monstrosity. But in a way, that compound and the tree are so massive in memories, maybe if they were around they’d have shrunk down and become more realistic. But that’s only a small price to pay for them to be around still.

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