take me back
to my mother's stories
of Sirfira topiwala's feast
not cds of beauty and the beast

take me back
to my quaint tiffin box
with two cream biscuits of joy
not tupperwares and foils

take me back
to the excitement of new books
brown paper covers and labels so clean
not words in copies or blurred onscreen

take me back
to games of my own imagination
some cloth, some grain and solitude
not eric berne and colours crude

PS: Sirfira Topiwala is a character from a story my Mom made up from real places and events in a town I used to visit every other month till four years of age. It talked of how this lazy topi-seller uses his brains and makes a lot of money at a village fair and goes home happy - with food, clothes and goodies in the climax and so, the feast. I believed it to be true then and I still wish it was.