Ma I’m bored,
There’s nothing to do the temperature having soared!
Aaah summers are here darling, it’s so much fun,
There’s zeal in the air and so much to be done!
She looks at me with surprise in her eyes.
Asking me, was I the mother who was said to be wise?
A hot summer day – an opportunity to rejoice?
She ignored me and went on to grumble at the top of her voice.

I sighed and looked around,
Is it that bad a summer with no joy to be found?
Then why as kid I looked forward to the long days,
And this thought leads me astray to those afternoons that have now started to haze.

The computer screen stares brightly at me with animated terrorists doing rounds,
Gone are those summers when children thronged the grounds.
The smell of ripe mangoes, the aura that beckoned to climb trees,
Those mud covered escapades, which ended in mad sprees.
Lost, Lost and faraway – those were ‘once upon a time’,
Those precious afternoons long spent and now perhaps not even worth a dime!

The air conditioner puts the grumpy child to sleep,
The bored look on her face almost makes me weep.
I pity her childhood sans all the summery fun,
Without those unguarded childhood afternoon games and stories my grandmother spun.
Without those running on the terrace to steal a spoonful of pickle,
Bereft of those jumps into the river preceded and succeeded with squeals and chuckle.
Lost, Lost and faraway – those were ‘once upon a time’,
Those precious afternoons long spent and now perhaps not even worth a dime!

The evening draws in and the power snaps,
The generator still illuminates the house in its wraps,
The child still grumbles at the state of affair,
She sighs, she laments, and lets out snare.

She makes me remember a house that still stands there in the dark,
Beside similarly built ones and a park,
Where decades ago children wished for a dark night,
Which were an occasion to rejoice and not a plight.
Those singing songs with other kids of the neighbourhood,
Those learning new memory games and country names that did us good.
Those bonding sessions and sleeping under the star dotted sky,
Those repeating ghost stories, which put us on a scary high!
Lost, Lost and faraway – those were ‘once upon a time’,
Those precious afternoons long spent and now perhaps not even worth a dime!

The sun rises and so do I, with a flyer being pressed against my face,
A summer camp she pronounces is the only saving grace!
I look at the activity list and cant help but sigh,
The things they would teach her came with a price tag too high!
The games, the activities were all similar to the ones we did as a child,
Carefree, unhindered, untrained running about in the wild.
But the same was now to be learnt by my little one,
Paying hundreds in a simulating atmosphere seemed little fun and more like a pun.
Artificial attempts at recreating the magic which summer brought for us then,
Seem to be the only way of not to waste the season in vain.

But do we really need sessions to teach a child to climb a tree,
Is there no childhood summery fun that till now comes free?
Lost, Lost and faraway – those were ‘once upon a time’,
Those precious afternoons long spent and now perhaps not even worth a dime!

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