Hopscotch..
and its faded and lopsided lines,
I drew with those filched chalkstone,
In the scorching sun, even tranquil moon,
we spent doing in each season change.

No Sassy computers or torpid television,
Nothing stopped our tiny fingers.
A fade music on radios enliven the backdrop;
To draw the squares and murmur numbers
on the mouldering terraces, we would jump n hop.


Pebbles and stones in those pretty hands
And the dash of dust on the chests to wipe.
I-spy and Tipi-Top, the backyards would cry.
Mommy's glare thumped our hearts
glimpsing that backpage with few Tic-tac-toe.

To sing those rhymes and limericks,
in a different tone and merry was the word.
No cheat-codes to win the game;
and the new songs had a different lyrics
that got brash with each passing day.

We grew, so did our hearts n minds.
Those old familiar streets did crumble more;
I wonder..whether the chalks are still stolen.
and Hopscotch comes with uneven lines.
The stones I believe still come free.

- Monika Ajay Kaul