In the hexagons of her eyes

Resting memories form a mosaic

Placed over the weave of time,

Dew droplets sprinkle tesserae

In indigo and burgundy 

Where bubbles settle and dilate

To bring them alive.

Some slipstream these pieces of the past

Blending with those forming now,

The rustle from the bamboo trees

Carries some droplets

To the temple of my childhood

Where my sister and I reminisce, mother, 

And the trees of our past

Now grown, their leaves carry messages 

From squawking parrots.

Outside the small dark house 

Of hand carved granite slabs

The trident boldly brings this balance

And nandi sits on guard,

One single oil lamp 

Hanging from the ceiling

Silhouettes the lingam faintly

In black granite 

With vibhuti stripes and a red bindi 

Adorned in jasmine and marigold.

I offer a cup of coffee to the pujari

After I cup the flame of the lamp

To my face from the aarti

And palm the sacred theerthum 

Over my head.

The tamarind tree

A canopy of remembrances

Shade those sitting on the benches below

Its fruit scattered on the ground,

A bite pierces the fragments afloat

And their drops glow hues 

In the textures of the mosaic

Bringing smiles to our faces.

Visiting the playground 

I come down the slope 

Of the childhood blue elephant slide 

And become a marigold child again.