Under the mango tree
Behind my house
Children are playing “kitchen”.
They have collected discarded plates and tumblers
Coconut shells halved to go for pans
Even thrown away ice cream cups have been washed
To be part of the kitchen utensils.
A girl is playing the role of a mother.
She is “cooking” meat in a pan
Potatoes or some wild fruit is the meat.
And now the food is ready.
Many guests have been invited
For it is a special occasion in the family
A birthday or the first rice feeding ceremony
The guests are seated in a row
The mouth watering meal is being served
The guests are eating to their fill, to their neck
They are burping loudly
And now it is the turn of sweets
The guests are gulping “rosogullas” and “sandesh”
Their cheeks are
bulging
And lastly a pouch of “hajmola” to digest the food
To keep the stomach in order
For it is quite natural for digestive organs so loaded
To go awry and compel the master to run
To the rest room in repetitive motion next morning
Avenging themselves on the master for ill-treating them
Children, play away happily this moment
For one day you will have a real family
With its pain and burdens and cruelties
Play away children, play away for
There will be a day when you can’t play!
