When I was a child, I used to play hop-scotch, sometimes alone and other times with friends. I used to select a flat stone; smooth, that doesn’t hop when thrown, hold it in my fingers and give it a kiss before parting with it. It used to land on required squares at times or I would retry again.

Life has become like that hop-scotch game. I limp around from one square to another trying to reach the end. But unlike the game when I reach the end, there is no turning back to repeat the process. There are new hop-scotches waiting for me to limp and move forward. But the major difference I face here is, I no longer get to choose the stones, nor do I get to pet it. After every level the stone changes its shape, it flies and lands on squares I don’t want it to and I don’t get to repeat. I have to move on limping, making sure I don’t touch it or question the process.

May be when I complete every square that is in store for me, I might realise the squares were set in such a way that they themselves formed a circle and I will be back to where I started.

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I never knew how it was
to have two people
or more in the scene.
One planning how
to make the other fall,
the other clever enough
to understand
if he goes by every branch,
he'll go by every leaf
without letting him know.
//Caption

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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.

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You need that "Right, right"
Inspiration in every step
To reach the goal

— % &

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The lines hopscotched
some words away.
The words hopscotched
some letters away.
The letters hopscotched
the paper away.
The paper hopscotched
the pen away.
The pen hopscotched
the ink away.
The human was left
wondering,
What is happening today?

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I know life is surrounded with lots of obstacles but childhood had already trained me to stride them with hopscotch...

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