Memoirs of a first-grader

The midsummer tin-roofed alphabet-school burst with thirsty crows and earthen pots .Long-gowned smoky-eyed phantom-teachers guided tiny fingers along chalked letters.

The water glistened telltale in the bottom waiting for the crows to bend and breathe deeply over their gently moving reflections .The pebbles would take long time to drop .

In the meantime a squeezed citrus leaf mingled  delicious smell perfectly with the lazy crow’s caw on the branches. At the altar of the church I tried to find the fragrance of my life’s beginning ,in the sandal paste and burnt incense.

Our pond smelled of the aromatic chemistry of wind over water and long lotus stems .At midnight dark burglars made oval holes in the neighbor’s house with a shovel’s thud. In the afternoon scary policemen arrived hand-in-hand with ebony-backed thieves.

The ghostly tamarind brooded in the night. Little tomato plants shone red in the corner. Our petite pig-tailed girl played peeved wife. On long lazy summer nights a circus band played as the stars flickered in the chinks of the tent.


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