By Pragnya Paramita
Somewhere in the bylanes
Of a place I call home
Is a house with cracked windows and vines
creeping up the walls.
Somewhere in the middle of
A garden created by my Aai
Grows a tree bearing red hibiscus flowers
That I watch every day in
The month of scorching hot May, being
plucked to be
Placed at the feet of various Gods.
Somewhere in the cemented courtyard lies a
chopped coconut tree
That I used to drink fresh fizzy coconut water from.
Somewhere near the place I call home,
Is a town with the river Kathajodi running wild
And a town with 52 bazaars
And 53 gullies,
And every single one
Sings a different tune.
Somewhere in between those 52 bazaars lies a shop
Selling the most delicious sweetened buttermilk,
With rose petals and thick rabri.
Somewhere in a place I call home
Is a mango tree where the village kids gather round
With greedy eyes and smacking lips
With no other care in the world.
Somewhere in every house of
A place I call home
Every girl is celebrated
As a goddess
During the months of June,
During Raja Parba when
The whole town echoes of
The sheer joy of being a woman!
Somewhere in my hometown
Lies a pond named
Thakur Gaadia (god's vehicle)
Where I sit and watch
A bloomed lotus floating away
As the sun beats down on the nape of my neck.