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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410973" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Indian Summer of My Childhood</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=410973" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The sun would volley<br>Live coals on bodies<br>In threadbare clothes<br>The sun would blink<br>Through the meager waters<br>That’s left of a river<br>Sand dunes with scanty vegetation<br>Scattered all over<br>The small raft wouldn’t move<br>On thin layer of water<br> <br>Where did the fish disappear? <br> <br>Bedrooms shifted to isolated<br>Shades under trees<br>Leaves perspiring and choking<br>Under the smarting sun<br>The fires set ablaze to settle scores<br>Around the town increased<br>The mercury in the thermometer<br>Where’s water to put off the fires<br>On all the four sides of the town<br>With three intersecting canals<br>And the mighty Krishna<br>Coming to a halt? <br>We longingly would look<br>Towards the west<br>For the sun to set<br> <br>When did the sun really ‘set? ’<br> <br>The sun would always be<br>In the middles of the sky<br>Day in and day out<br>In the nights he would be<br>Substituted by hot gales<br>Which mom would counter<br>By placing raw onions on<br>Our skimpy beds and replenishing<br>Our thin tongues with water<br>Waking us up from the sun-laden sleep<br>Afternoons were time for fighting out<br>The live-coal sun with games under the<br>Scattered shades emitting the rawness of<br>Flower-laden mango trees<br>And biting into tender mangoes<br>For a moment the sun would take a retreat<br>Looking at the faces reflecting the sourness<br> <br>Somehow the birds never really left<br>The nests they wove for the season to follow<br>They would wake us early in the morning<br>And in the mornings all we saw of them would be<br>By way of droppings on our heads<br>Sometimes they would swoop down<br>To take a sip from the flat earthen plates<br>Dad filled with water exclusively for them<br>They would even balance on the edge<br>Of a small vessel he would place<br>Filling it up with grains…<br> <br>It was sapping heat<br>But never did it sap us<br>It was mercury at its high<br>But never disturbed us<br>We countered all<br>As if it’s just another<br>Season to live through<br>We would be habituated<br>To every facet by draping<br>Ourselves in damp clothing<br>And drawing long sips of water<br>From the fresh earthen pots<br>Sun is so much part of our day<br> <br>Sun is our day! <br> <br>02dec2010<br>12.45hrs</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Indira+Babbellapati">Indira Babbellapati</a></strong></div>