The little birdies

Under a tree
Lay a blown away nest
With its treasure chest
Of little birdies three

The three little orphans
The three uninvited guests
Filled up the gaps
In our hearts and nest

To give them their right to fly
To give them their tiny space in sky
We fought against nature
We forgot our little stature

They were fed; they were christened
They were told about our mission
Our chests filled with pride
They were ready for their maiden flight

The flight never took off

A few proud young feathers remained

Duke the dog was satisfied

Looked grateful for the meal supplied

To put us at our place

Nature showed her ugly face

We lost the fight

She proved her might

Floating down memories

I float like a dry leaf downwards through my memories 
There...my dad waits for me in his large army raincoat. I stretch my hand for those coins that would get me my favorite chikki. 
...He is on his armchair on a lazy Sunday smoking endlessly. 
...I feign sleep so that Dad carries me to bed. 
...Angry dad breaks bro's volleyball, TT rackets, cricket bat and wickets
...Dad in uniform comes home with litchis
...Dad and mom argue 
...Dad beats bro
...Dad takes out even the last paisa to buy me the purple dress i want
...Dad is playing cards with his friends...he is so loud and happy
...Dad is ice cold in the ambulance 

...My brother is crying over his lost stamp collection( torn to shreds by a very angry dad)
...Bro is teaching me to catch a cork ball
...Bro & I are playing marbles, french cricket, carrom and cards 
...Bro is winning prizes at school
...Bro looks so innocent with a tikka on his forhead
...Bro & I share whispered secrets in the dark inside mosquito-nets
...Bro and I  play in the water tank in our bathroom
...Bro tells me fascinating stories about science, nature and everything he holds dear 
...Bro looks sad and helpless
...Bro gets me chandni dress
...Bro can't breathe...
...Bro is hurt...bro is angry...
...Lost childhood ...lost togetherness...

I see huge Ashoka trees in Barrackpore and the gomanga mango tree in our ancestral home...
I see my mom...why is she so angry ...I taste her mysore pak, ice cream and fish curry... 
...Those scooter rides, and little and big fights...
I see my achchachan and ammamma waiting for my dad, mom, bro and my arrival on a dew-soaked dark early morning. My achchachan's stories and ammamma's hugs...
And all our dogs and cats. I can see Chigo's tail bobbing out of the paddy field. I  run and play with him and then feel the stillness in his lifeless body. 
Lucy, rosy and pussy -- our cats in chennai
Dad and mom talking about us...why are they so unhappy with us...
I float down and rest buried under earth