The Spring

by rangr


Spring here is pretty, with birds singing and flowers after the winter’s drought – colors splendid. Little sunflowers almost hidden by the green grass. Suddenly some tulips, carefully laid out by watchful hands. Pine cones and Maple leaves; and tickling grass, wet from yesterday’s rain.

Ah, the rain. Did I tell you that we love the rain back home? The smell of the scorching earth cooled by the sudden downpour. The sky groaning and warning that it would give us more potholes and fill up the streets and subways. We made it up with the smell of hot pakoras and bajjis and some chai and movie at our home. We learned to like the power outages, which would take us back to candle lights. Sorry, where was I? Spring…

We had no spring back home. All we knew were monsoon and summer. Did you know we had coconut trees in our backyard and our grandfather made fans and broomsticks out of their sunburnt leaves? And we had a neem tree, whose flowers and leaves and seeds… I liked that tree a lot.

Back then, I used to write and read about other places… The grass was not greener at home, but food definitely tasted better. Food… have to get something to eat now.

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