Letters to My Younger Self

5.

Karachi, West Pakistan
1959

Camels were the first marvel,
       then elephants strolling the street.

You rode one.
       Each time he took a step
              a gigantic swaying motion rocked the tiny basket

where you perched with Saku and Ammu
       on an embroidered blanket,
              the handler holding what you thought was a stick.

The streets threw up dust and wonder.
       Ammu bought an ivory necklace
              and a brooch,

a carved wooden jewelry box
       inlaid with ivory,
              now hidden in my closet.

Can you be forgiven for these cruelties?
       Not knowing then what you know now?

You still cannot bear to burn the wretched jewels,
       the box—last gifts, years later, from Ammu.

You cannot erase the memory of that childhood ride—
       the joy of it.