Poem: 'Fred and I in '54'

Many Happy Returns of the Day!

Happy Birthday Fred!

Today is Freddie’s Birthday! Freddie is my younger brother in the U.K. He lives in Peterborough. The closest I got to my brother as a boy, was in the summer holidays in 1954. We were both borders in the Boys’ High School, Allahabad.

The school routine, dormitory chores, study classes, assemblies, long school hours, compulsory games in the evening and finally study classes again before dinner, kept us apart and we saw very little of each other.

The Summer Holidays, a long two months, May and June, brought us wholly together for the one and only time in our boyhood.

A Rudyard Kipling-like atmosphere prevails, specially reminding us of Kim and his adventures.

I’ll sign off as,

Yours truly,
M.A.

P.S.: “M.A.”, is what Freddie would affectionately call me in those days. This poem titled, “Fred and I in ’54”, is dedicated to him.

Fred and I in ’54

How do I remember

A summer long gone by

With younger brother Fred?

Younger than I am now,

And younger than I was then,

In the Summer of 1954.

He couldn’t paint,

I couldn’t maths.

I was older & stronger,

Strong & bolder was Fred;

One and a half years younger,

In the Summer of ’54.

Separated by the system

In a boarding school,

Times shared were sparse and spaced with rules;

Big brothers had to be distant

From younger ones. Holidays. Then came

The Summer of ’54.

United once again; again at home

In scorching Allahabad.

Fred in shorts, sweating,

With glowing skin, and I

Without a vest, climb to the top

To view a brood in nest; that Summer of ’54!

Beneath a culvert

Ran a stream. Tall grass

Took vantage of the cool & wet.

Between the stems a mongoose

Ran; we knew him well

And watched him long – that Summer ’54.

Hot winds raced us to

The trees and bushes; on

Our knees, to dig out Earthworms for our hooks.

O, Kim could have not been more

Pleased to touch the earth,

That Summer ’54.

Hoopoes, falcons, doves and kites,

Sparrow hawk and barbet

Crow and fowl and pigeons too,

Young pariah dog

On corded leash,

Moved through the balmy Summer heat of ’54.

Beneath the chil-bil tree,

A mango shared by two;

I lick the drip cascading

Down my arm. And Freddie

Too, with self same charm

Saw mangoes through that Summer of ’54.

A kite he made, with paper thick,

Some glue, a stick and twine.

With twinkle eye he cast it high

And stretched it to the moon.

I stood close by, and envied sly

The flyer of Summer ’54.

With stealthy poise, on brother’s arm,

We move in silent strides

Towards the hole where

Local cobra hid. “Don’t tap

the ground, M. A., for he can tell

That we are near” – that Summer ’54!

This garden Opera House

Was still & quiet sometimes;

And often loud and clear

With bird and childish cries.

Was there a doubt that secrets

Lie, in shadowed coves, of Summer heights, in ’54?

The monsoons came with toads,

And `hoppers too. Lal-boochies, dragonflies

And other creepy crawly things.

But sparkling jars our captives held

And caterpillars made to tell

How Summer moths were born in ’54.

The culvert, hopping filled

With frogs, and line in hand,

We caught a few while

Freddie caught a chill

With icy raindrops on his back,

Raw with prickly heat, in the Summer of ’54.

The years gone by

And frogs no more,

And rain that comes in drips,

Of warming weathers

And treeless ’scapes

We miss that Summer of ’54.

The outdoors made a Scout of me,

And Nature close to him

Made tackling life

A smile with strife,

And golden days a charm

To dangle on a moment there in Summer ’54.

This joyous summer knows no end

’Spite separated years! Life had

It’s streams to cross, and hillocks too;

It’s bushes and it’s banks.

Stiff climbs we saw: mirrored,

In our Summer of 1954.

End of Poem.

Look forward to a paraphrase and notes on the above poem. Illustrations in watercolours will follow too.