By Aparna Bandyopadhyay
Contributory Author for Spark Igniting Minds
That dense jungle like a dark vortex
at the edge of Grandmother's hut; Every summer, during school break
When the elders had their eyes shut,
Was our childhood hunting ground,
with the darkest lake there abut!
On a dark and thundering afternoon,
We, the traipsing famous five
Armed with our lances, bows and arrows,
Blindly ran into a bee hive.
And then the yelping crowd that we,
Were tearing into the lake in a dive!
We swam along with swampy critters,
And finally reached the yonder lake.
And there we found his helping hand
Gopi, at the forest wake.
He took us across all mystery lanes,
Along dense foliage with deer and snake1
We climbed the trees and slayed our dragons,
Asked him where would he go at night!
Gopi with his gentle smile,
Would always say, he is a sprite.
At the end of our play, he always would
Lead us out to the world so bright!
Every siesta when the elders slept,
The famous five would run amok.
Swimming towards the jungle deep,
Gopi took his Empire's stock.
Climbing trees as high as sky,
The shade would always sunshine block!
The summer month drew to an end,
The famous five would soon disperse.
Around the fire grandma spoke,
Of a bygone era, and the age old curse.
We sat around the lantern light,
Grandma's story never seemed farce!
Two hundred years ago it was,
A cantankerous man that had a son.
He caned him for some minor fault,
And thought that a father was always won.
From dawn to dusk, the boy would work,
And dream along, as work was done!
One fine morn, the father found
The son had gathered no firewood.
He chased him with an ire of fire,
The son then ran without any food.
Away he ran and hid in the lake,
The father, beside the water stood!
The day when darkened, night befell
The father bellowed and no son came.
He bedded down for the night,
Knowing, that was just Gopi's game.
But that was the last when the boy was seen,
The father still called him angry names!
The famous five ventured again
Before they went back to their homes;
They ran in the woods calling his name
Searching in the Lake's foams.
No Gopi came, no fun again,
There he stayed and there he roams!
About the Author
Aparna has been a physics teacher in various Air Force Stations and Private schools in civilian areas, whenever stationed at a place. She has written articles and poems in Air Force magazines and regional publications.
She is now focusing on methods to make the environment green and safe. Her motto is to keep learning from young and old alike, there being no end date to learning.