By Rita Rana
Dear backyard mango tree,
I miss the shade of your zigzag hands
adorned with dancing leaves and the mango babies,
I remember how the spring wind scattered the
tiny mangoes, smaller than my bracelet pearls,
and the pungent scent, too tempting to not savour,
I witnessed them turning bigger and slightly yellow,
you dropping and gifting them for our pickle jars,
Returning after a decade, I feel shocked and worried,
where have you all gone, what happened to the lemon tree, the bougainvillaea, and the money plant that used to squiggle all over you?
Where are those marigolds, lilies, roses, and those mischievous squirrels?
While all these years I was an inch close to the bright screens, sitting on a boring chair,
do you know how much I missed the mixed fragrances and that purest breeze?
Have I turned deaf with the dullness,
or are there no sparrows and pigeons? Why can't I hear the chirps and coos,
I even miss the raucous calls of Bulbuls that used to annoy me the most,
Where are those orange and black butterflies,
Oh! wait, where is your little brother? the curry tree,
and what is this large building doing in your space, your land?
Though you, your friends, and the roof I lived under were never mine,
I miss the time when you were near, and my smile was real,
I am keeping my questions here where you stood tall and strong,
and now I must leave, but I will return soon in the hope of answers and the lost treasures.