Paradise Lost

Come with me
to the not quite forgotten land
of my childhood,
Through a sepia looking glass
Grainy with age, and yet
clear,
like the bed of a sleeping river
before you stepped in.
The only sound
was the sunlight
dappling the earth,
when the wind in the trees
decided to remain quiet.
I wish I could show you
the swing under the tamarind tree
Or the acres of woods, and the deep green pond.
They said an alligator lived in it, and I
believed them then.
I remember
baths in the canal
and catching fish
with a white muslin towel.
The sweet tart taste
of half-ripe mangoes
Hide and seek among the trees in the orchard.
The dark store room with
its huge stone jars and pungent smells
Pickles and salted tamarind
Bitter gourd kondattam.
Long ago I counted as
priceless treasures
A battered tin trunk,
full of old dolls and
Meals of clay on banana leaves
to appease them.
Sharing Cadbury's Gems
Smooth round stones
and particularly ripe
red cherries.
Mosquito bites
and scrapes that faded
to scars beneath BandAids.
Power cuts, and scary stories
during the monsoon thunderstorms,
Watching the flame flicker
in the kerosene lamp -
Another story to make me laugh
or my eyes shine with wonder
Until
I forgot to be scared.
Paper boats to float
and cry over when they sunk.
Evening came
At my mother's feet,
and my head on her lap
Pretending to understand
and eventually falling asleep
while the grown-ups talked.
I never knew the arms that lifted me
or tucked me in
But if I woke in the night, afraid
She would be there, indistinct
in the dark.
Warm, breathing, soft
And burrowing against her side,
I would find
Safe haven in the crook of her arm.
To sleep, again.