The Death of Innocence

The twinkle in the night sky,

the tweeting music from tree branches

the bouncing stone on the lake surface

the clattering noise of hailstones on rooftop

Catching those butterflies in the neighbourhood park

playing with mud just after first monsoon showers

savoring those 5-paise lemon candies grandpa used to buy

flying those big lovely kites in the high winds of January evenings

swimming in the sweetest waters of tunga with all cousins

stealing green mangoes from the grove, when watchman was in deep afternoon siesta

getting bitten by mosquitoes in the dense beetelnut plantations…………………………….

many and many more, the memories never end but always last

those were the days when life was that of a honey bee

—-exciting, care-free and always into the unknown

The death of innocence was all but complete, when

books invaded my life

growing fatter by the year

making me morose by the second…

those were the days i always cherish

but can never relive