Loony Tunes

When father said “Why go straight now? We no longer live there.” He does pause while maneuvering left. I let myself see trees rushing along road – bowing to the question. That yes, you are right. But then taking a side anyway. By lending trunks to tilt and crown to spread and roots to reach (even if water is gone). It is then the trees become ? ? ? ? ? ?

A clear-dandruff like collection of cloud should mean, I am coming to the ruffle of leaves. A cue to the coral should mean it is 7 and I am to miss tea. A well stationed azure should mean the bus will have left by the time I reach. A wind is still learning to settle what it is going to leave behind. On the roads when people spill along with brown leaves, there is a reflection Of a chai spilled, a biscuit broken — A tip to summer and an earthworm. When I arrive early, I take a longer route. When I arrive late, I am already seeing the sky at home (but at some other place). Glad that the one thing that won’t move with me will be this scene. I am occupied in looking around because I do not need to carry the sky, or pack it, or remember it forever. Also, I can’t really do any of those things. Even knowing that my travels speak to me More about home, should have made me feel adjusted. Most days, I feel Well Traveled.

The crow when in hopeful departure from the mango tree did not find the bread crumbs on the corridor wall still flew in at the sound of iron gate opening. When I bring water to the parapet wall in white plastic dish of Bengali fast foods, I am surprised by how sure the crow is of the bowl holding water only. And I do not even try to test, or trick, or check, for anything that could tell me otherwise. “The parapet prevents roof edge from blowing off by diverting air flow up, over and away.” The Extraordinary thing I do not think I am, my boundaries are. In the days of September mother once said, “Our ancestors might come as crows -- That this one right there, quietly stalking the edge of left-over piece of roti - is one we are seeing our people in”. The crow dips its beak in water, leaves bread crumbs to float, shoots to branch with jaws full; I want to be this hopeful about something that comes only in good times! The thing