My dear thimmamma marrimanu

The thimmamma marrimanu tree
She has stopped swaying
Whispers the neighbourhood breeze
Instead she ambles here and there
Epigraphically, and
Rootless

I bathe on top of her tree top
She likes that
Since she gets watered at the same time
Then
With her leaves
She scrubs my back
I wish I had banana leaves
Mine are too small

I silence her
I hug her branches
I chlorophyll you, she says
It's treescriptology for love
They did not teach me that in school
All I learnt is Vedic pathshalas, the Buddhist
sangha, the Jain sermons
I know some of it
As measured by my report card

I wish my school bench was
On top of the thimmamma marrimanu tree
Above the world
Where I play the flute
It makes her heart go aflutter
As she and I walk
Hand in hand
In the bol banao style of slow tempo

One night

We reach the banks of Vrindavan
I am warning you
If you play your tune
Then I wont let you get down
And go elsewhere
So will you please stop playing your tune of viraha now?
I don't

Do you realise, she says
It's Basant Panchami, today
She takes a holy dip in the Ganges
Humming a thumri

I never see her again

But at times
When all is quiet in the delta region
You will hear a supersonic boom
That's my dear thimmamma marrimanu
Warning us that the Ganges is shifting east
With a twang of her heart