Its that time of the year again!

Its that time of the year again,

When little traces of the ides of March remain.

The sun punishes hard and the mangoes smell strong,

Oh, I just can't remember my favourite childhood song.

As we left the exuberance of youth into the wilderness of adulting,

I feel only dilemmas that we could have been anything but depressing!!!

For it was then -

Our wild selves made the water splash till all the boats ran aground,

Sitting on the stream, sleeping by the trees, there was sometimes a crazy smell in the ground.

We would come back dirty and sit on the tub,

Soothing jaggery, the mangoes yum and all the children frenzy for that fleeting rub.

Now, muddling, puddling, not even cuddling, our brains be churning,

Trying to hold on, losing even today, searching for some shit while everything that was, remains all around

The most intelligent specie cannot decide it own common ground, while many dogs complain that all that we have done is adorn ourselves with a permanent frown.