Cottage Chronicles

my elegy at sixteen

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Draped in spotless white,

Yes, she was my real grandmother.

Her beautiful smile, her most beautiful face,

A divinity reflected from silver,

Yes it was my grandmother, the real one was her.

Her delicate hands, her platinum hair, 

Her wit, her serene trance.

She'd knit and design,

With those four round eyes.

She'd sing me the songs,

I wish I'd taken.

She held my hand,

Handed me to God-

And I? I forgot hers,

I just- i just touched and forgot?!

That thorny, sour berry bush -

She even turned that into a

Fragrant, savoury delicacy.

I asked my mother,

'Why is amma's cooking

Always so good?

Even when others make the very same foods?'

And truly she replied,

'Cuz Amma puts the secret ingredient, 

Lots of love, just for you.'

Where will I get that love again Amma?

Your yellow rice, that mango chutney?

Who'll feed this child now, tell me?

How'll I ever forget,

Those tales of my culture, my morals,

Of wisdom, of valour?

This child saw homemakers- meek and capricious,

For those whom she met, had only stabbed her.

But you were the only one Amma,

One who knew even better than those

 intellectuals of today, 

Your voracious reading, your open thinking,

Your sweet nothings, your most unbiased understanding.

Who'll be that thread now Amma?

Tell me please, who?

Now that you're up there, please ask him for me,

How many of you did he actually make?

Down the beautiful century you beautified,

Is there any one who shall, ever compare!?

None. Isn't that the answer, I hear.

Who'll keep warm when it's your sweaters

Not the memories, I grow out of?

Who'll play with me when noone's home,

When no one's there?

This world, its a sham amma!

There is no true ascetic, one like you-

You kept a counting of clothes,

Never accepting another beautiful and new.

You healed them birds,

You slept on that wooden bed,

No summer too hot,

No winter too cold-

Tell me who'll show me that resilience,

Now that you're gone?

Who'll show me, that you can be a student-

A student to those books,

A student to yourself,

Even at an age of hundred and more?

"Take care of that body", you said,

"That's a temple, your most faithful abode."

I will Amma, I will. I will now,

But I'm just not feeling well enough to eat anymore,

Not enough to think anymore.

And noone's going to ever ask me that I'm sure,

Noone shall say again,

 "oh child you look so thin, you look so weak.

Eat something, here- take these"

Only you saw how weak I was.

No expectations, nothing except my well being.

Sometime my tears will dry, I'll try what you said

But I have lost my torch, forever for now.

All I have is these memories I can't afford to forget ever.

So I'll remember you in those stars, I promise.

I'll really do- I promise. I just wish to see those

Old, content grey eyes, that witty sweet smile-

that love one last time.

I just wish to sit by your side,

To hug and listen, one last time like before.

But even more so I'll say, I just wish-

I just wish, I could have loved you more.

I just wish I'd loved you more.

And isn't it a sad irony,

That at sixteen I'm writing this elegy,

While I can only wish- just wish only.

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