Like a breath of
fresh air, the old
college campus;
twenty years after
those farewells, tears

Not a word since
then from those
who said farewell, all
flung to far-away corners,
sadly, even departed souls

He does it that old
way, steps off the
bus at the imposing gate,
takes the meandering
path through the trees

The path lies desolate,
covered with fallen leaves
and red Ashoka flowers:
it's the fortnight-long
Christmas-New Year break

The winding path leads
on the playing fields,
beyond which lie the
residences, brick-red,
hidden by the foliage

Now then a lone  deer
breaks free from
the bushes, strayed 
in, perhaps, from
the bordering deer park

The playing arenas, once
the lifelines of the college,
now lie bereft of  gaiety
and laughter, I have heard,
have hardly believed

Perhaps it is but the
irresistible sweep of
globalization, every minute
counts for careers, no
time for fun and play

But  now his heart
stands still, is the
pulse  beat stopping,
is that a vision
from the past?

Around a bend in the
path, stepping lightly, a
familiar bag slung across
the shoulder,comes his
old friend, his best friend

Slim, of nondescript
height, a shock of black
hair, to the obvious
weekend destination, 
the parental home

along that narrow path,
bathed in golden rays
streaming through the
swaying green canopy, has
he walked into the past?

((((As dusk falls
and shadows lengthen
on the desolate path,
has he walked
right into the past?))))}}}

Or, is it a son in
a mirror image? hardly
 likely just twenty years
after - besides, sons
are not twin-images

He stays rooted to
the spot, no sense in
challenging time and
space, basking in the
brief stillness of time