Friday, 21 March 2014

I sometimes think of Delhi






You too are not my mother
yet there is on my body
a second navel, a mark,
a closed, healed mouth of a scar
where the pulsing cord was severed
between us finally.


I don’t look at navels often.
I’ve travelled perhaps too far;
sometimes I spot a rampart,
an alien ringed boulevard,
the glint of foreign waters.
And I think of you then.


Of course there is no return;
no-one knows that better than me.
Each spring new flowers, new shoots;
brisk autumns of foreign fruit.
But somewhere a jamun tree
still dances in its crushed-fruit skirt.






Mother's Day is being celebrated here in Egypt today. Yasmin deshe yadachar. I am greatly fortunate in that I have more than one mother. Remembering and honouring all the women who grew me up and the places they grew me up in. Happy Mother's Day!




4 comments:

  1. Beautiful! The familiar ubiquitous jamun tree.......can give rise to thoughts that lie too deep for tears( as the poet said).

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    Replies
    1. A whole line of jamun trees on a road - Prithviraj? Tughlaq? Wonder if they are still there. Loved those avenues.

      Thanks for reading, anonymous :)

      Delete
  2. This poem makes me curious, says so much, yet doesn't give away. The note at the bottom does clarify my questioning mind. A happy Mother's day to you :)

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Nonymous comments prized more than rubies :) Anonymous comments shall be deleted as soon as spotted. Just so you know.