It’s ages since I’ve been to that teashop
and I haven’t gone back down that straight lane
where cobblers used to sit by the bus stop
though I’ve thought often I must go back again,
see myself if the lamppost with the dent
is the same still? wires sagging drunkenly;
if the same old cracks split up the pavement
made wider perhaps by that jamun tree.
We played barefoot, we rarely had shoes on
and had no business with the shoeshine guy.
I wonder if new hopscotch lines get drawn
and if the shop still serves our spiced up chai?
But what if the jamun has been cut down? -
tough that homes don’t always stay in hometowns.