Maa

The same square room

With whitewashed walls.

The TV blaring with something

To which no one is looking.

Rows of chairs and..........

And faces.

Shrunken and full of anxious pain.

Hollow looks and

Balding heads

From falling hair.

Some readied for radiotherapy.

Marked and stamped.

Awaiting to be dispatched to the world of death.

Others degenerated by

Chemotherapy.

Everything is still the same.

The same hopeless living pain.

Only faces have changed

And you are not there.

The smell of disinfectant and Death.

How you hated it!

But.. .it reminds me of you.

It makes me feel you and see you

And go back to the days when I used to bring you here.

Sometimes you arrived before.

I would join you after work.

Your face lit up every time you saw me.

Sitting close we would--

Chat on so many things

Waiting for the chemotherapy.

You pointed out to me who was who

And told me their stories.

If anybody looked you told them

That I belonged to you.

Waiting for me you had already made some friends.

I look around and still see you among them--

Trying to pick up a conversation.

Always the same question--

" Where?"and " how long?"

Exchanging notes on doctors and medicines,

Sharing tips on vitamins and nutrition.

You hated every moment of it.(I know)

But I never tried to feel what you felt.

I had no feelings then.

I only did one thing after another

And anything that I could do to make you feel better.

When your name was called ,

You went in for the occult medicine.

Bravely, you never complained of pain.

Returning home

we drank Daab And you insisted on buying

Guavas for father.

I stand and walk out of the room

To look around.

So many, Oh, so many!

The old , the young and the children.

Some faces hidden behind surgical masks

Some half covered with shawls,

Trying to hide the deadly sores.

Some limping,

Some trying to breathe,

Some without tongues and cannot speak.

Scooped out cheeks and

Cringing pain.

Panting voices seeking attention.

A little boy sits besides his mother.

Shaven head and rickety limbs,

Trying to eat a banana.

A man arrives on a stretcher

Surrounded by mother, father, sister and many others.

And that must be his wife--

Holding his hand and trying to make him

Drink some water.

His mother runs her fingers through his sparse hair,

Mumbling prayers.

Ahh....

Every where a sense of despair.

Maa

I long to hold you again.

To put my head on your shoulder and feel your Pain.

Wish I had not been so matter of fact

But I was only carrying out a balancing act.

I am so glad that

I was with you on your last evening.

I sang to you a song.

Held you close,

Propped you with pillows

And left you watching T V with Dad.

The next morning you died.

Ma I never cried

You knew how to let go.