Childhood Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

It was in nineteen fifties.
At home we understood English,
Had Tonfunk a German radio set,
Burst more crackers for Christmas
Than they for Diwali: felt superior!

For recreation we used the road,
Salai Mudaliar Street was the name.
We played football and pole vault
And improvised games where ball
Was replaced by a stick in each hand.

You are out if your stick was not
Touching the one on the ground
And then the owner of that stick
Touched you. The objective was
To push his stick as far away
As possible without being out.

Remember when my sister was born,
Twelve years younger than me,
I came home in the evening,
All excited about the game on street,
And father was disappointed
We didn’t ask about the baby
Born that day, or even Mom’s health.

Going to school meant a walk
Of more than one kilometre
Beyond OCPM girls’ school,
And we had a gang of our own
For some years, and if any ‘enemy’
Was seen, either he had to turn tail,
Or face our wrath, and boxing skill.

On way there was Gul Mohur tree
And Oleander for us to suck the drop
Of nectar from yellow flower-ends,
Play with the green unripe fruits,
Gather fallen flowers of gul-mohur
To eat the central while-lined petal
With a sour taste.

During lunch interval, I would walk fast
And reach home for lunch,
And walk all the way back
In the scorching sun of Madurai,
Wore no chappal and was in shorts
Got my chappals only in first year BA
In Thiagarajar Arts College, Madurai.

No wonder I am mixed up everywhere
Feel alien with my name and culture
Tho I read Bhagavad Gita and Upanishads
With utmost care and frequency,
And yet fail to be one among them.
Call me by name, and I am outsider.