Memories of a litchi tree

Summers were

An endless sea

Of street urchins

Eyeing our litchi tree

All hours of the day

And night.

The unmistakeable

“Thunk”, “thunk”, thunks”

Of stones, sticks, sandals

Thrown at the tree

On our walls, windows, roof

Woke us every morning.

No threats scared the urchins.

Once, the house servant

Ran after them

With a broom made of bamboo twigs.

But they always

Came back.

The following summer

Father got the litchi tree felled.

The next day

Once again, the house awoke

To the “thunk”, “thunk”, “thunks”.

The urchins had discovered

The other litchi tree

At the far end of the quarter’s campus.