Games we play

I grew up in a small city.

And playing outdoors was the magic pill to combat long summer days.

Once out of home, we quickly discussed games to play that day. 

Image courtesy: Google

We looked for puddles to jump. 
Or bushy guava trees to climb. 

We ran from one street to another in groups.

Giggling and talking at the same time. 
All of us. 
Together. 

We ran like gushing water from pipes! 

We loved summer holidays!

My favourite game was hopscotch.

Connected squares or rectangles were drawn on tar roads
With a chalk or a broken piece of tile.

We raised our mid length frocks a little 
And jumped one legged. 

In summer mornings on the dark tarmac road,
The white marks almost stared at you.
Almost told you about boundaries but fell just a bit short, 
Because in hopscotch, it was easy to go past them. 

As we hopped to avoid one box or the other 

And to definitely avoid all the lines drawn, in either red or white,

We panted and laughed with joy, and prayed that the other failed to do so.
We cursed each other in jest. 
"May you put a step in the boundary!"
"May I come first!" We giggled!
Played pranks to break each other's concentration.

We looked at awe at those who finished the whole game at one go, 
Who reached home,
Without once going out of those connected boxes.
For reaching home was certainly not easy. 

Balancing oneself all the time on one leg, 

And hopping towards the "home", 
which was either at the centre or at the end, 

Reaching home was always difficult! 
You had to go past all the boxes, one by one.

Never stepping on the lines and never putting both the feet on the floor.

We wiped our knotted brows straight, 
Only when we reached home, in a hopscotch square.

We smiled at our friends waiting for their turns outside the box then.  

Many years later, it seems I still play hopscotch. 

I  carefully hop through some days, never touching the glaring lines,

Although they shine bright to catch my attention. 

Not letting my dice fall in the wrong box and never getting out of the box, anyway.

(What was the hurry to get in the box, I wonder!

Was it the game itself?)

Avoiding dates, jumping through some, to the next.

Making sure I do not take note of the day, 

Or making sure others do not catch me taking a note at least. 

I untie my knotted brow once those days pass. 

I raise my head and smile at a friend.

And I nod my head, as I see her getting into that enticing game of boxes.