Lagori

Sunday morning Karuna Road got up from beds of bit-notices, dropping off a blue sky, talking of a Lagori match between birds and kids. Flying fox had pasted them on dark, night skies when Old Man, Lady, birds, trees and kids were asleep, below trees; being morning they were more into sleep, when the notices floated down, off a sun-dry sky. A Sunday Lagori scheduled for 10 in the morning. At 8, net practice; Old Man training crows, house sparrows, bats, mynas, warblers; Lady put 5 year olds from the Missionary into runs and throws. Old Man and Lady trained them in losing the match not winning anyway. 'Learn to lose, wins will come tasty,' said Lady, a former India hockey player. Old Man nodded, an IPL retired cricketer. Birds in green tunics; kids wore bright reds; a seven-a-side match; Lady picked the birds team, Old Man, the playing kids, for fairness. Bhagwan, the tea stall owner, arranged seven stones, one of top of the other, in the middle of Karuna Road. He stole them from a construction site in the night; shaped the stones in the night. Old Man and Lady readied themselves with whistles. Two whistles blew together at 10. Game started. Crowds of birds sat on rain trees and laburnums; morning walkers hung out on garden walls. Lagori on, more noise, many throws, never a bringing down of stones; and then it happened, a parakeet hit the stone, a scramble as the kids ran after the fresh yellow tennis ball .... it did not work out as the birds failed to reset the seven stones; a house sparrow fell off a branch in disappointment; after 30 minutes of play, there was no win or loss, as the Lagori stones ran away, leaving the kids to tend tired birds. Bhagwan spread a Sunday newspaper on the footpath, put down bhels, faffda, jilebis, Cokes for the participants. Lay down to rest under trees. Old Man and Lady signed autograph books, without pens and pencils, thrust at them by morning walkers.

Floated a Chorus:

Old Man and Lady,
left footprints on village mud;
on Arabian Sea and sands;
in cemented cities,
Old Man and Lady dropped
no fingerprints;
they knew, they couldnt.
On Sunday,
on Karuna Road,
left soul prints.
Imprints,
absent, unreported,
gone,
as the Lagori morning.

Old Man and Lady had baked their heads to script Lagori moments of Karuna on Karuna Road.
Astu.