Void Thoughts

My earliest memories are muddled
by the stories told and retold.

Is it the times I played with
my cousins — hiding and seeking,
chasing and being chased,
making houses, or simply
talking
and laughing?

Or is it tucked inside the
stories told by my grandparents —
of Vethalam and Vikramadityan,
of Sherlock Holmes and his cleverness,
of ghosts that haunted my dreams,
of Jean Valjean and Victor Hugo?

And sometimes my memories echo
the evening prayers,
the distant chants of the pooja,
and the bell chimes
floating from the nearby temple.

Unsure I am of that one early memory,
though the essence of those earliest
moments is laughter, innocence,
and happiness —
that much I know for sure.

© Vinitha Dileep

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