By Srishti Pandey
Amma, "How have you been?"
I ask my Nani
2 years later I'm able to see
Her wrinkled face getting more fine lines
Than the time I saw her last
She's a widow now
Nana's gone
To a place, we're all unaware of
Probably got a new birth
Or he's closer to God
All I remember is
How I used to hate
Sitting next to her when I was eight
Frowning at my mother
When she called and told me to massage her legs
She has told me tales of her younger days
Lived with her grandfather
Who sent her to school
Made her learn ABCs
And so she earnestly read the morning newspaper daily
Met with the queen
Got prizes for narrating hymns in Sanskrit
She's learnt it at heart
Remembers it even today
Till death do us part.
Then there's arithmetic
It's in our genes
I feel glee
As I get to know
Even she's had 1 out of 100
Now comes the traumatic part
Got married at sweet 16
When she was just a kid
I'm a kid at 23
I wonder how she's been
When I was 13
She recounted moments of her grief
Grief, pain and sadness
Is all she could share
With the loved ones she blessed and caressed
That's why I frowned
When she lectured on doing a lot of work
Being the best at everything
And respecting others to a great extent
As she wished only the best
People will say I'm romanticising
And Maybe I'm
But what do I do?
I'm guilt-stricken to resent the grief-stricken
The old lady who's my own
Now as I imagine visiting her at eighty
I hope I get to see her
Talk to her
As I massage her legs
With my will and wish
Not long ago
I escaped her company
Now I remember 22
When I last saw her husband
Who left us eternally
Yet peacefully
He went somewhere
We'll all go someday
And so I don't want to miss the chance
To see the lady with the weak knees and heart
Her teeth are gone
But her faith never left
And so she continues to bless
Like the day when I was eight
And got a gulaab and mango at her place
Was pestered to get up early
Yet resisted the good habit
That only would have worked for me
Remember the times when there was no electricity
And I grew more complaining
Yet there were those strolls
To the Buddha temple
Where we played and ran
Simple joys, you see
Hard to find in the 20s
Growing up is not easy
And then there are these realisations
That never makes it easy
It's just love that betters what's best
And so I choose it and let go of the rest.
By Srishti Pandey
Comments