Summers from the past, 

And their memorable vignettes,

Leave a permanent imprint on you.

As brimful June arrived books,  

Or school could bind me no more.

I remember bright red hibiscus too,

Blooming as if to outshine,  

The screeching sunlight as I roamed,  

Barefooted on heated terrace at noon.   

Where modest Frangipani cooled evenings.   

In evening I sat under a Neem tree,

And wrote a poignant letter to my granny.

The first page was about my longing, 

For her and the rest were about,  

Things she should hoard for me. 

On the way to her home,

The engine of train hissed,

As we meandered along,   

The serpentine verdure of paddy fields,  

Time had only added their comeliness. 

I always rushed to hug her,

To smell her sublime warmth.

Her languid arms embraced me,

While her flaxen hair and face shined. 

For a month, I could fish in lucent Ganga.

And I could climb the Mahua tree.

Granny fed me an indulgent meal at night

Made me sleep with mythical folklores. 

Her parting gift of a handmade doll.

As I exchanged eternal vows and oaths,

I took with me a beatific image of her,

Holding an ivory jar in a white saree.