Skip to main content

Granny..

   When we three sat on the sofa yesterday,
I was reminded of once upon a time
  where the equations were different.
I took myself on a journey back in time
   when I was nothing but a bundle in my mom's hands.
I don't remember anything from those days
  but photographs suffice-
 Of a beautiful mom in cream saree, tired yet proud
 and a 'once more beautiful' and 'then still beautiful'
 Grand mom in all her grandness,holding us tight.

  Years in motion,
    Old Age on hunt,
Grand mom fell prey.
Freckles and Grey hair,
   But still my adorable  SUPERMOM.

        I see another shot from past,
    of which I have memories.
    On this same sofa,we sat a dozen years back
    on my twentieth birthday.
My mom hugged me tight
  and my grand mom hugged me tighter.
We made a lovely three,with myself most comfortable 
  in a midst I would call Heaven.

Grandmom was becomin granny,
I knew from her face.
She clutched me tight,
Taking grip of a life she was losing hold of.
A shadow of life once lived,
she shrivelled into a bundle.
  A bundle of emotions dried up
  A bundle of memories crumbled
  A bundle of body systems waned.

Yesterday,we hugged her tight
Our precious bundle.
She did not identify her princess
or her darling angel
around which her life once revolved.
Senility hurts those around.
   As she sat between us, 
Tears filled our eyes.
I tried to pick her incoherent words.
Tears fell on my rounded belly
I could feel a move there.
Yes,my granny's message had been decoded there.

    

Comments

  1. I miss my grandmom....its a tribute to all moms around the world..:)

    ReplyDelete
  2. memories come swarming in....
    loved it...:)
    those words speak for me too...
    keep going dear

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thanks Neetha...thank u fr d encouraging words...:)

    ReplyDelete
  4. Generations....a vicious circle...:)
    Keep it up Paru...njoyd it...:)

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Until we meet again"

One Two Three,they came and I lost my count. All in an embrace brown and blue with a band of white. I clutched my ring But missed the caress. The waves faded into the waves But I had no shoulder to rest. The vastness ahead swallowed my tears and echoed from a distant land "Until we meet again."

Only If I Could

The smile on her face was still the same, as I had seen her on my 7 th birthday.   But the red lipstick had lost its glow and the fair skin looked a bit tanned. It was not the red glowing sun that had baked her brown as she had been indoors for more than a dozen years. It was the dust and years of negligence. I had once shared my childhood with her. The red saree with its golden spots carefully spun had given bright colours to my dreams I had woven on yarns of childhood games. She looked like a bride in her bright red saree celebrating life with golden bangles, tingling the bell of festivity. She smelt of jasmine.           Now, her beauty is a blurred reflection of the past. The bangles are broken and red saree has faded. She now smells of kerosene that I had once accidentally spilled on her. Her smile did not elicit a smile from me. But I was tempted to pick her up from my closet. There she lay for seventeen years, uncared and...

Kochettan's 'chaya kada'

The smell of hot Samosas frying in the oil filled her with memories of a land she had long forgotten.The land of dreams,hopes,aspirations,laughter,smiles.Not to forget,the pain,tears,and wound it had left behind.The river in the picture, on the wall suddenly confluenced with the imagery in her mind of the still deep waters of Manimala.The days she had spent on the banks throwing pebbles at hoppers,creating ripples(any bum's delight)gave her an impetus to think further. All memories ushered in fresh thoughts and sour tears.The aroma of the piping hot masala tea filled her thoughts.Slowly,gradually she was sipping hot memories.There stood the small,yet happening place-Kochettan's 'chaya kada'.Home meant memories.Memories meant her village.Village meant Kochettan's 'chaya kada'. Her days started with a distant glance of the 'chayakada' from her room in the upper storey.She would peep out through the curtain at the shack, at the corner of the road.The ...