Written by: jayachandran chakrapany

A large Mango tree
That has a name
“Grandma's tree”
In every rainy season 
She would blossom 
My Aunty was so happy 
In preparing delicious pickle 
Using its tender fruits 
As soon as it began to ripen
I always prayed a breeze to come 
The cooling area beneath it was 
Venue   of playing  for kids 
Always I had been the leader 
But when my grandpa died
The elders in my family decided
To cut my Grandma’s tree 
As the firewood 
For burying his body in the graveyard 
Though I was a kid 
I embraced  it my tiny hands 
And cried so long 
Till I fell into  sleep 
But I could save my ‘’grandma’s tree”
Still it is here though rotten
Everything repeats as in my childhood