the old granny under that tree...

You will invariably find her there
Under that sprawling tree
With her wares spread...vegetables, eggs, flowers...a curious combination...
A grand old woman in white saree
So dutifully bound still on her frail charms...
Her face carrying all the historic imprints of the ages...

Ages of struggle...
Of losing her husband on the third anniversary of her marriage...
Of bearing her only son all alone, like a never-say-die foot soldier...
Of surviving the massacre of people that broke out after a demolition of a religious shrine...far away from her home...
Of living life truely dangerous...
Of fighting it out with teethed grit...

Everytime, I pass by her
I stop if my daily drama allows me to look at her face and her wares...
Simple things...like duck's eggs, tamarind ripe, coriander leaves,small blossoms of different hues, bananas, betel leaves...
All kept side by side on a big green banana leaf...
You can take your pick...
And the granny would never ask you for the money...
Instead she would ask you if your kid is all right
Or whether your dad is keeping his blood glucose level under check...
As if she knew you all too well...as if she had been to your house several times!
The granny is a loveable one...
She sells eggs, vegetables...
But never asks for money
For she would just bind you with an elderly affection...
Like a true granny...
She would tell you anecdotes and snippets
Of life...

The old granny in white saree...with crow's feet beside her both eyes...
With a wrinkled face...
Cobwebbed eyes...
But sharpest mind and
An extraordinary human heart...pouring out love...
All the time;

(see another rendition of the above scribble, in my mother tongue at  http://www.theboatsong.blogspot.com/p/mother-tongue.html )




Comments

  1. I like it

    https://plus.google.com/s/asimkumarpaul

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  2. thanks Asim Paul! join my blog...:-)

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