Midsummer night's dream

Can't sleep tonight. I have around 30 unposted pieces and here is the next one, which will hopefully reverse that trend.

Summer vacations of my childhood were of a quality that evokes the smell of raw mangoes, the scorching terrace baking in the noon sun, eating lunch with my grandfather, salvaging cupboards and shelves for old books, reading from morning till night through meals and groans from other dining table attendees, bouncing a rubber ball off the garage wall for hours, relief from the heat by lying down on the cool mosaic floor, shuttling between the yard and the kitchen with eggs fresh from the chicken coop, green chillies, moringa drumsticks or a coconut from the store room, helping my appoo fix the black coconut sheller blade to shell a coconut, picking off the pink chaambaka, trying to scale the mango tree and jump onto the first floor balcony, shredding the coconut with a chirava for my ammachi, waiting for my kunjamma to return with library books, reciting the rosary in the powercut darkness diffused by the weak emergency light, playing with candles and heated compass points, try to block out the newsreaders voice blaring from the TV at 7 pm sharp, welcome telephone queries from friends relieving the monotone of the precessing ceiling fan from the reign of jambavan (a very well known eon in our household), the noisy rain drumming rhythms on any surface it meets - much like my fingers (much to the annoyance of family elders), a telephone ringing couple of doors down the road, the gentle screeches of the insect nation singing me lullaby as I drift into a heavy slumber...sweet dreams.