Like stills of images on an old vellum album
stuck with white edges glued to the black
that one photo of grandpa’s old house
on 17 Dr Nair Road, T. Nagar, Madras,
evokes and spools images inured in my DNA.
The wild garden, the acre of land, rich with tropical
wealth tended by a mali, caring for lush greenery
Images
the chameleon scuttles on the Areca tree
turns from bark brown to leaf green,
the taste of tiny mangoes sap bitter on the lips,
the heady scent of jasmine flowers threaded on a
banana fibre, twisted deftly by nimble fingers
made into garlands or strands to decorate hair
Images
hair plaited with thazambu, washed with soap nuts,
dried with sambrani, an aroma never forgotten
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