Memories from the decade of the nineties when I grew up in Lucknow

The rainwater would make a guttural sound as it gushed out
Of the pipe in the aangan(1)
that ran down the wall from the chat(2)
I would set the paper-boat along the current gushing out
The boat would just as soon be overturned with the water
raining down!
If we would be playing cricket and it rained
We would continue to play dauntless in the face of
apocalyptic weather.
The wind would catch hold of the rain and savagely whip the
streets for hours on end.
The hidden beast centred at the waterpooling water in the
street
They said would sometimes swallow kids like us
Like it occasionally swallowed our balls.
The chappal(3) would
adhere to the street and go along with too!

It would be very dark in the night with no ‘light’
Especially if it was amavasya(4)
or half-moon
We would play a guessing game of
silhouettes   
The kids wouldn’t be allowed to leave the house
We would run round and round in the aangan
Or rotate like a spinning-top with arms outstretched
Then tired and in the prospect of nothing to do
We would go play antakshari(5)
at the steps of the opposite house
With the children slightly elder to us there
Who would dazzle us with their exemplary knowledge of
extraterrestrials
That hopped on the moon like we hopped in our aangan
Which I would come back home and narrate to mother
Who would listen intently and patiently.
Sometimes when there would be lightening
In a flash we would see the contour of clouds
And faces of families who perennially circled their chats
Like we did ours
Singing songs or talking
Or with father making me rote-learn the table of 12
Then suddenly, light would come
And the entire neighbourhood would erupt in one single
proclamation:
“Light aa gayi!!!”(6)

At night we would look for stars
Which meant the sky was clear
So we would take the bistar
and head chat-wards
Would wash the floor with water
So it would be clean and cool
I would meticulously tiptoe
Around water-logged patches on the floor
That held pieces of the sky in their palm
And would move round and round the chat
Until when it would dry
And the bistar(7) would be laid
And all would sleep.
I however, would look at the sky
With a conscience as clear and expansive
Would look at the stately moon
Mark its way across the sky
Slowly, from end to end
To inspect the sheep
That the shepherd that roamed the sky
Lined in the sky"s expanse
Like the salutation in parade at school
Or sometime it would go behind bigger diaphanous clouds
And a faint glow would move

I would constantly toss and turn the white sheet
And hug the cooler parts of it
Would strain and squint at a star
And look at its colored flickering flame
I don’t know when the first time
I marked out patterns of stars in the sky
To see them every day
For years to come ahead
I long anchored a part of me
To their constancy