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!


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

    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 :)

  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 :)