A seed- fear syndrome

A seed- fear syndrome

 

Smile. I often

with thrill and fun

at this age

then in my village

my childhood

time, that has stood

engraved in my memory

in it my childhood story

then words and deeds,

with thoughts and needs.

anger, spite and greed

those in child, breed,

fear of the darkness

my consequential fuss,

protection of grandma

from ghost, ghoul’s jaw.

Out of all, the fear, the worst

in it I fun now the most

at a syndrome of seeds

a feart in every child breeds

“ The fear that bred as a thorny tree

piercing my stomach grew in me”

created by a grandma’s story

while at darkness taking care of me.

“ A disobedient child

gulped in, being wild

an orange with its seed

in the stomach it did breed

a tree growing with stem

through its nose out, it came’

Interrupted she to continue

as mom’s call came to my rescue

as I was afraid to hear further

I had committed the same blunder

against mom’s caution

for the cold, the protection

not to eat orahre like fruit

cold and cough those would boot

from hanging basket, out of greed

I had taken in orange with seed

The orange, tempting ripe yellow

peeling only the kin it, I did swallow

being afraid of mom’s shout

as her advice, I did flout.

Now I was full of apprehension

a tree in me, stop would none.

Its leaves stems would come out

closing my openings without doubt,

those are my ears mouth and eyes

nostrils through which a man sighs

I would stand in the garden day and night

over me, ghosts and ghouls would play and fight,

Thornes would pierce my stomach

I accused myself of bringing bad luck

disobeying mom now promised I never

ever would disobey my superior.

Nights I could not sleep thinking of the tree

conceiving its growth I felt inside me,

Many days the thought panicked me

“ In stomach time takes to grow t a tree.

never I had told my plight to my mom

to save her from tears as per my wisdom

as her son would stand mute and static

bearing oranges for her it would be too tragic..

The tree has not grown out since last seventy years

but often I smile at the syndrome of seed - fears.

 

P K Routray

In the service of the Lord