The toddy collector

The toddy collector

An authentic ride of a man in the village streets

His mount makes sweet sap on trees..

Dawn to dusk  in the cycle for livelihood

In his friendly Hercules cycle, there are mud pots

Fermented pungent saps that ooze out

Ahead of the handle, there is a lantern

In the crossbar, there is a hatchet

Tied aside  a humerous bone to his Dhoti

In the misty fog, through the paddy field

He is hurrying fast and  fast

 Like a charming horse in embracing race..

For him, life is a ride for far away distance

Life is an ascent, from soil base  to sky

For grabbing fragrant flowers and sweet fruits at the bower

Oh! he wants to climb on the palm trees in string

In the beautiful village, the crowning sun

Awakens the blossoms and breeze…

He is at the top of the coconut trees

In between the rachis and beautiful spadix

He mimics   woodpeckers“tuck tuck” sound

 Birds in nest sneak a look and flutter the wings

But the daring squirrels mimes with him on trees

While  poisons stings of bees, cry out for nectars

Slowly he patted and  tapped on the young  spadix

Then tied mud pots for collecting sweet sap.

Dawn to dusk in the ride and climbs

Clearing the canopies declines the sap

But he maneuvers purity of work

Thus he earns the cereals and pulses...

 The pedaling race, the challenging climbs

 Makes the sap tasty in the mud pots.