The lane is empty
Except for the kacchi kairi
Kacchi kairi strewn across on both sides.
“What is kacchi kairi?” he asks.
I turn to him, and give him an imploring look-
See for yourself.
“All I see is beaten, tattered, useless raw mangoes.”
I give him that look again.
I smile.
I keep walking, walking
On that lane which is delusory,
Empty, except for kacchi kairi.
The trees tower over us
The greenery overpowering us, shadowing us
From the clouds.
The faint drizzle seething into our veins
The pungent raw smell
Overwhelming my memories from which I have abstained.
The lane desolate, leaves scattered about,
Kacchi kairi’s standing orthodoxly, waiting
For my retrieval into the fond memories
Buried deep, somewhere inside.
And in a trance I was transported eons back
Playing- carefree-
Callous- teasing-
Happy!
The sweet sour memory of eating that kacchi kairi,
The soft tiniest bite
Sour juices flowing
Eyes barely opening
And yet I would take bite after
Bite.
That sweet-sour memory of kacchi kairi.
“So what’s new in that? You still eat kacchi kairi.”
“I know”, I sigh!
Its different I want to cry.
But I give him that smile.
It’s just not the same kacchi kairi!
“So what, now you want that same raw mangoes that you ate
As a child? Don’t you think that’s rather impractical?”
The rage that gnaws at me is minutely conquered
By the insanity that he thinks I live in.
I don’t answer.
I just give him that look,
And he gives me that look
When he thinks that I want to make him understand
Without the words,
And he thinks I don’t know that he does understand,
He just enjoys his taunts more
But I know
And he knows.
And we draw each other together,
Closer.
And we walk that deserted lane,
Where there is nothing
The lane is empty,
Except for the kacchi kairi.
Kacchi kairi strewn across on both sides.
Moushmi Radhanpara 
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