Squinted hard at the hill top,
Far, far, up on the hill top
A tiny shadow
Wanted to jump and run but
Slowly stepped down
Stepped down the bus
Squinted at the shadow
A faint figure,
A figure of a massive tree
My tree, our tree, our mango tree
Standing high and massive, like a giant
Fifty five years…
Fifty five years inside a dark cell,
Dark cell unknown to what I did,
Fifty five years ago, riots.
Riots against my own people
Only eighteen then.
Not anyone’s blood my own blood on my body,
Neighbors blood in my soul.
Behind bars for fifty five year
This morning I was shoved out.
Shoved out, to the unknown world
Wanted to see her, wanted to see her badly
How many dreams I had
Dreams of our childhood, she was fifteen then
Dreams of how I played with her
She and I, dig a hole on the hill top.
Dig a hole to plant a seed.
A mango seed
Up on the hill
Her compound and my compound separated with logs
We held our tiny heads under the tiny stream coming from top
Colorful fish, tiny ones
Could race to the top in ten minutes then
But today nearly one hour gone,
Impatient, impatient to see her laughing eyes
Heart pounding hard, aching heart
I know she is waiting,
She would wait for me, for fifty five years,
I cannot believe I am really here
Under the massive tree,
Our tree, our mango tree
I squint my eyes passing the mango tree
Her house, my house ?
Under the tree, a tiny slate,
“ Rani singhe born 1950 April 02nd ,
Died at the age of fifty,
May she rest in peace” .
Blink my eyes no tears mouth dry
Heart aches, heart yells
ran down fast, as fast as I could, down … down…. Down