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| Painting done by my daughter |
Amma,
She has in her, the entire me,
so what can I gift her in my life?
but by being a mother myself.
Attempt a reflection of her essence,
look upon her a role model,
epitome of motherhood.
She has that doll I slept with as a baby,
and those pieces of papers,
of master piece graffiti done with my little hands.
Her store still keeps my old rusted cycle,
that I once rode and shopped for her,
odd supplies from neighbourhood stores.
She has the school uniform that,
I wore to my first day of school,
on that rainy morning of 1980's.
Even now, her memory retains,
my childhood friends and our pranks,
my chatters and tall tales and mimics.
Those medals and trophies,
I won shine in her shelf ,
that's her pride and she dusts them daily.
Her collection of antique is,
priceless bunch of stuff,
kajol stick, comb and paraphernalia from my teens.
Why is it so? that, we chose one special day,
to thank our mother!
I fail to understand.
Dedicate few hours of a year, call it her day,
plant a kiss, gift a rose and a lovely card,
Is that enough? I fail to understand.
I have a life with me,
not enough to make that card,
bigger than lessons she gave me.
I have a life with me,
but is it enough to relieve with one hug,
her long journey of hardships?
I have a life with me,
not enough to fetch that flower for her,
to outshine the fragrance of her love on me.
She's taken the pain, for me to live this day,
so what can I gift her in my life?
but by being a mother myself.
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