Writers Jam

Moon,

New place, new faces. People have been wanting me to be more responsible here. Maybe they want me to act and talk like a grown up. And I did start to pretend mature at some point, but really? Don’t you sometimes feel like we are still and always a child inside? Maybe when we are talking with our closest people or when we buy our favourite icecream from the store and you lick it so fast when it starts dripping down your hand, or sometimes when we are on our own. And when we see a balloon or aeroplane in the sky while walking down the street rushing and you want to slow down and stare or when the rain or mist fall on our window and we want to write names or draw a heart with our finger, and when we randomly start talking on our own or to a fallen petal, or when someone brings a birthday cake for you? Aagh now I miss my nephews. They always made me feel like a kid. They think I am their friend and my relatives think they don’t respect me. But I love how they connect with me as a friend or elder brother than uncle,  Do wrestling together,  just lock door and dance, do gardening and plant vegetables hehe.I miss going out for a ride and eat out and go near a river side to just sit and eat snacks with them. I miss them.

Today when they called from home my nephew was saying he is eating mangoes. I felt nostalgic. Hm i love monsoon and i love mangoes. When i was small i always get very excited during monsoon nights when the rain hits hard. We had many big mango trees around our house in our orchard. So when it rains hard all the ripe mangoes will just fall down and next day early morning i go with my grandma with a bucket and  collect all those mangoes. (specially sweet  Little mangoes which we call panjara manga(sugar mango)). Then i will wash it well and cut it. Then i will crush some garlic and put all the mangoes in a mud pot, then i add salt and crushed pepper and garlic and just mix it well. ummm its sooo yummm(now they cut those mango trees)

We rise up with the sun, Pour our hot coffee with little sweet hope, and carry our dreams like folded notes in our pockets — small, wrinkled, but always close. Yea our dreams are listening our heart’s beat (lub dub lub dub) I hope we all make it there. To just be happy and make our loved ones happy.

Yas