I was just three
The night hung heavy over us
I could smell the burning in the air
I could sense the tension
In our dinner-time conversation.
But my little mind
Couldn’t understand why –
Why were people screaming
And running everywhere?
Why were my parents speaking
In hushed murmurs?
Why was our house in darkness?
Space
My father knew
His little girl needed comforting.
It was after dinner
He took me in his arms
And together
We looked at the flames again.
Space
The flames
Raging a few meters away
From our back garden –
Angry, menacing, ugly flames,
Ravaging the tire factory
That belonged to our neighbour.
Space
I still recall that moment
As if it were yesterday.
The tongues of orange and red
Rising higher than the tops of
Our coconut trees.
I remember thinking
Who will save the coconut trees?
The image is seared into my brain.
Space
I remember my father trying to explain
How some people
Were angry with other people
And were trying to hurt them.
‘By burning their tire factory?’
I thought it
But didn’t say it
It seemed too stupid a question
To ask at the time
It seemed too solemn a moment
For my silly questions.
Space
Maybe it was only something
Adults understood
Maybe when I’m older
Like my father
I’d understand.
Space
40 years on
I’m looking at my back garden
Reminiscing
And I still can’t understand.
Mokshini