Some of the memories of the grass and trees and mango groves
Some of the memories of shashoot trees outside the house
Some of the memories of picking the shatoots from the bowing down branches of
that delicious, colored purple fruit...
Some of the memories of eating that tongue biting and tongue coloring fruit in the scorching heat of the afternoons when every one was indoors taking a siesta and you sneaked out and played with boys and ate mangoes and shatoot............
Climbed those trees like a fast moving monkey and jumping up and down from the popal trees without ever getting a single bruise on your darkly shining bare skinny legs....
The fragmented splinters of memories of those hot afternoons with the poor neighborhood children of Un-educated and unfortunate backgrounds were the blessings of joy and hearty laughter....
Memories of parents yelling and screaming at your shatoot stained frock.....
"Were you playing with those dirty children again picking the cheap fruit from the rotten trees? while staining your expansive , new frock for ever." 'How many times you have been told to stay indoors and get some sleep in the afternoon while the whole city is boiling in 100 degree temprature." 'Do you want to get heat stroke so you won't have to go to school again ?"
Next afternoon again the skipping out of that freezing cold room with artificial means of cool
was the only desire time after time, day after day, week after week....
Growing out of those pleasures or growing up to loose it all was the least dream of the glorious childhood left behind some where where there are no more shatoots, no more mango trees and no more house and no more parents to be in that house............
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