In the muddy waters of my childhood
a river used to flow here.
gulu gulu, gulu gulu
joyous intertwining best friends meet upstream
and tumble by in the backyard of my mother's childhood.
Sprouts of jackfruit planted when she was a pre-pubescent teen
feed me and 80 more on hot summer days
green bean horse bean mushrooms moss green
mangoes in tadka on our fresh banana plates.
The waters rise and the power cuts are longer
A cobra slides over her feet
the light of our portable inverters
keep our secret card games company.
in their excitement, Tunga and Bhadra poured in uninvited
ruining
sacks of coffee beans piled to the ceiling
The houses of innumerable bugs in the rooms with the machines
Leading them to rust
today the jackfruit trees are just stumps
felled by bitter sibling wars
the river has before it a road
uncaring drivers punctuate dry summers
Why does land being divvied sound like heartbreak?