A Summer Sum Up Of Times Past

How much ever we crib about the scorching heat of the sultry summer days, the hot crisp air some times strikes a beaming smile on your face as you remember those school time summer holidays. There was so much life that brought me close to nature. I did not grow up with android, WiFi, or IOS but had trees. Today it is the other way round. 


And the summers of  times past, school days,

were absolute blissful vacation of gala ways.

Pranks on the prowl, jumping rope, swinging high, unending fun,

skinning knees, skipping fast, reading books, with WiFi none!


Those haunting escapades onto the streets,

tree climbing event with buddies were treats.

Shouting our lungs out, whip our hair and dance,

playing pranks on passers-by, leaving no chance.



Flower hours,  were my choicest few,

rejoicing the summer bloom galore each day new.

Neatly aligned rows of May Flower trees, shining with the sun,

were our air conditioners for the day in the open.



The placid  and alluring Champa I chose for my hair,

while Jasmine stayed on with its aroma diffused in the air.

Parijatak, untruly the tree of sorrows, was a favourite of mine,

bushy shrub by the gate, fragrant and so divine.



And then there were times, creeping down to kitchen store and peep,

in dark corners, steal granny's pickle bottles from shelves high and deep.

Pinching some of her jarred green mangoes, meant a ritual of the feast,

the huge green pickle jars were targets of life! simple at least.


And again, flicking granny's  "Vicco Turmeric", to look like a queen

tiptoe to her high window shelf, stealthily waiting to preen.

Reaching out to the yellow tube, randomly smack the skin with a layer,

and smile onto that silver framed small wall mirror.



Wearing those  sleeveless floral frocks, laundered neat and clean,

Amma paddled away on her brown "Singer" sewing machine.
The special material that it was made  from, the "Only Vimal "  

fresh and soft for summers, that was our brand to feel royal!


Quenching down the thirst with  Rasna drink,


that Amma readied and filled the fridge with, in colours yellow-green and pink.

Gulping down liters of it, and hold serious debates,

on colour of your tongue with friends, was madly cute.



Summing up those times, going down memory lane,

of spirit in heart, spring on our feet, and barefooted run!

Summers though were times, boundless, to chill

Hot rays of sun and waves of the sea, polishing moments to heart's fill.