The peepal tree

When the mongrels lazed and the crows crowed
During the scorching summer afternoons,
The children played marbles
Under the old peepal tree.
When the bees buzzed and the flowers bloomed
In the warm winter morning sun,
The children chased each other
Around the peepal tree.
When the elders took shelter inside the house
And monsoon showers lashed at the windows,
The children with their paper boats
Sat under the peepal tree.
When a bunch of naughty kids
With a ball and a bat but no wickets,
Played all the autumn evenings
Under the majestic peepal tree.
Eating roasted nuts and sweet potatoes
The children listened to the grandpa,
Who told them the stories of ghosts
That lived on the peepal tree.
Careworn, responsible, harried and bent
When I see children play,
I remember the days I had spent
Under the peepal tree.

About Abhishek

I will let the blog speak for itself...or, at times, for me. View all posts by Abhishek

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