The Stories They Lived

You couldn't miss the excitement
That leaped out of his eyes
And the beaming smile
As he sat on the bicycle
The bicycle of his favorite story - The Cycle Theft,
That he's heard a hundred times,
And has built a frame in his mind.
He had a new question, everyday
Why did they tamper the pedal? 
What did they do to the green rubber seat?
And here he stood - the little me,
The emotions identical -
The excitement, the curiosity, the anger
Writ large on his face
Only twenty five years, and a few feet apart.
The cycle's lived to tell a tale,
And the memory still too young!

When she chewed the chunks of sugarcane
One she'd fancy, while listening to the stories
Of the journey by the sugarcane farms
In my village, well ours -
How she soaked in joy!
How they waited for freshly plucked guava,
The munchings of peanuts with Bou,
Or, the lip smacking mudhi-mixture 
with mustard oil and chopped onions
- the fixtures of Cuttack evenings,
I was lost in one thought -
How did they find the roots?

When they sprinted to the terrace,
To be embraced by a calm evening breeze
Many stories came alive in their minds,
The Super Storm - easily the most eerie, and treasured
The winds that shook the buildings, and our hearts
And razed many homes,
Uprooted trees and electric poles
Plunged the city into complete darkness,
As the rains lashed at the windows
And hammered the roofs,
Without a speck of mercy.
They'd insist on listening to this story,
Over and over again
And had gone to sleep over it, countless nights.
Here they stood,
On the same terrace,
They paused to take a close look
Maybe connect the dots in the stories
Peeping into the ruins of the skylight,
Bending over the flower pots, to water them
Gazing at the red beacon atop the TV Tower
Its light still blinking.
As I stood watching them live their stories,
The soft breeze rang in many memories,
When the terrace would turn grand with diyas,
Every Diwali,
Where many dreams took wings
Under the starlit skies,
Where we lazed on, many winter days
And joined the blankets
As they absorbed the sunlight
As they gathered the warmth for the chill nights ahead,
The terrace where we'd lie star-watching,
And followed many as they traveled across the skies.

As we lied on a mat, gazing into the clear skies
And I followed the stars,
Trying to recognize the old friends,
My daughter and son
Were busy sorting their new friends -
The cycle, the terrace, the skylight
The flower-pot, the rose and the tuberose
The chunks of sugarcane
The endless river,
And an ageless sky above!
As a thin veil of sleep gathered
Amid the soothing breeze,
I couldn't tell if it was my thoughts,
Or a fleeting dream,
If it's not memories, 
Was it stories they were drawn to?


© Sashikant Mohanty