Budding Years

Budding Years
I want those years! .................
Years of innocence! ..................
Young as a boy,
school-going,
full of dreams, desires…………


Living in a world of my own,
the places where I trotted…….
The neem tree in my
house gate woke me up,
in the cold dawns,
The rushing vehicles making
non-stop sounds as I slow- footed to school.

My 2 Km long walk to school ………
The ocean – vast campus,
the sky- high asoka trees,
flower gardens, the bougainvilleas,
The orchards, creepers………..

The rich, businessmen
sent their children there.
They often fought
for no reason.
The friendly school peons.
The so- punctual teachers
(who spent the entire –day there)

The vast playgrounds
that received the foot tracks,
of many a sportsman.


The arts teacher
(who slept most of the day)

The angry geography master,
(who had a cane as tall as he)
The sweet English teachers,
the commerce teacher
(who directed school dramas)

An assembly of young eighteen hundred.
They fought and fought,
yet studied, played, danced and …….
The annual exams saw
the school campus dead
(they flew away in all directions)

Two months of silence, desertion
only to be re-filled
with fresh batch in June……..
My budding years ………….
Years of pure innocence………

-
Copyright reserved © 2007 New Delhi, India

Ramesh Iyengar