Treading the Memory Lane

1
Memory has an exceeding leap
In roads sans flag signs.
Like the playful grazel of cats
Between the benches.
Like, if one writes something,
Something else becomes clear.
There’s transformation
All on a sudden
Even then–
There’s certain slight rust
Left by the stupor of the cane on the table.


2
The cat now turned a rabbit
In the wind–
And thistledown’s swapped
For pages on books.
Aren’t memories heading the woods!
Until we sight a forest
We’re rival nations.
It’s when we reached the woods
That we forfeited the signet ring...
Forgot each other
Became conscious and oblivious together



3
The “uppumavu”1 she gave me
While in class one,
Tasted acrid.
Today as blood ooze on tongue
How easy it is
To forget the lessons learnt.
Having sent her children to school
With empty Tiffin boxes–
While she sits stitching flags
Green, red, blue, all mingled–
She’s calling me.
“I could have sent them off
With a weapon too”,
She was saying quite unaware.
When a page is being burned
A million memories are dispensed with.
Then suddenly a recollection
Of going in search of pepromia plant
Which hemmed my legs in.
Having known all–
The road, the bridge, the rain water
The fish bite, the swim and the silence,
The loud speaker, you, me...
You wouldn’t relinquish
The tip of my finger.
Even now there is
Among the burnt-out memories
Curtain dampness of the cat’s sleep.
I’m in class one still,
Very much in class one still.

**********************************