At the traffic signal I noticed the Banyan tree,
After about three decades. 
I hadn’t realized that my old friend had grown so big;
It was probably a tenth the size
That rainy afternoon when I stood dumbfounded
In the dingy backroom of ‘the’ candy store.
That day too, I smiled looking at the tree
Before I was ushered inside;
Like how my eyes glinted every day when I sauntered by
For my favourite coffee-flavoured candy,
‘Cause its leaves had a shade of jade
That stirred me happy just looking at them.
I didn’t think it odd that the ‘candy store uncle’
Wanted to show me something special;
“Our little secret, my doll”,
He whispered through his tawny teeth.
But something hard, shrouded
By his blue and brown checkered loincloth
That he swiftly brought out
With a sleight of hand and a look of awe,
Did not seem to me like a magic trick
Or a Halloween treat to be unveiled animatedly.
I remember having a soliloquy,
“Is this the toy I should clap my hands for;
Why does uncle want me to ‘play’ with it?”
‘It’, which looked like an obnoxious single-limbed beast to me,
Like it had a mind of its own,
Breathing and moving, all by itself.
‘It’, whose slippery sloppy rigidness against my skin,
Haunted me for years to come,
Making me wonder which one of us
Was the ‘toy’ in the dark room that stormy day –
When the tree’s leaves unable to be mute witnesses,
Lashed in futile rebellion
Against the railings of the tiny window,
And dripped raindrops on the window sill,

Like trickling down tears of helplessness.
‘It’ which made me shun henceforth
From curving my lips upward,
Feeling an iota of delight,
Or even glancing at the tree,
Every time I passed by its shade.