Pain

I hear of death -
Of  a sudden  loss.
A friend's brother,
A neighbor's son ,

A mother, or a grand mother ,

A friend, a sister ,

As on and on the stories go
I am filled with remorse.

I have lost so many uncles and aunts.
I have lost grand parents whom I loved.
I have lost a very dear friend whose thoughts still choke.
Above all I've lost my mother ,

Whose death I could not grieve

Because of sorrows that lie so deep.

Death.
It fills me with remorse

How do we cope.?
How do we cope?

Death .
It fills me with remorse.

The sudden loss
Comes with a disarray.
An emptiness that is spaceless
A habit that suddenly won't be there
A face , that we won't ever see
A voice, that will never be heard .
A hand, that won't ever pick up the phone to ask.
A mouth,  that will never say comforting words again.
No place to rest our heads and forget the pain.

As the years go by the numbers grow.
And with each death behind us, we grow.

As the petals fall one by one 

We remain  but pollen dusts.

Hanging on to our dear lives

Till the winds decide to blow us away. 

As someone's father, mother, or uncle, and aunt, 

Brother ,sister , grand parents and spouse ,

We scatter, and cause disarray ,

In the lives of those we leave behind.

I fear the day that I shall die

My daughter will  then feel the same as I .

 No more will she be a child again ,

A mothers loss is a terrible pain !

   

My patchwork quilt :2021

The people we meet in our lives

are like patches—

some dark, some bright.

Put together,

they form a patchwork quilt,

stories upon which our lives are built.

As we open the trunk

to air old clothes,

out comes this patchwork shroud.

So many faces from the past flit by,

forgotten moments come alive.

Each patch has a story to tell—

of sun-kissed childhood,

raunchy youth,

adventurous marriage

and soothing motherhood;

of friends, families,

and dead parents.

So much love

woven into colourful threads.

My patchwork quilt,

I will not put you away

in the tin trunk again.

You will cover me

with fond memories,

and remind me

how good my life .

To all the missing girls.

Faceless.
Voiceless.
Heartless.
Ruthless.

Black figures of voiceless , faceless  girls.
Sucked up by the  heartless, ruthless whirl.

Moments: 3

The car halts.
My eyes are closed.

A rap and a tap.
I open my eyes.

Kholed  Eyes,
Lipsticked lips smile.
Dazzling earrings,
Sequenced sari.
Neatly parted oiled ,plaited hair.

I look at the rough, dirty,asking hands.
What a pity!
A transgender
Begging for money.

I close my eyes.
The rap becomes a clap.
The tap becomes a smack.
The car moves on.
 I hear a mocking song.

Moments: 2

On the bus to work
I saw two transgenders.
Looking at me ,
They whispered something something
and smiled.
I got up to alight.
Walking past them I asked
"What did you say to smile'?"
Shyly one of them replied
"Nothing,just that you are beautiful,
We think."


Astounded. I looked them in the eye and said,
"Thank you. You are beautiful too."

The bus halted. I went off to work

Moments :1

 I look out of the window.
What a bright and lovely day!
Red palash blooms ,standing tall
On their trees, dot the skies
Here and there.
It's a wonderful day!
With winter gone,spring is in the air,
Marred only by the beggar boy's
Dirty faced,rheumed eyed
Blank stare.

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.