Almost at home
all through the year
I pay least attention
to my dress.
I drape a bottle green sari
wear a bright red blouse
my hair is peppery, tied tight,
the only one that is in order
is my bindhi, round and red
in the middle of the forehead.
a streak of sindhoor smeared carelessly
where the line parts the hair.
Noted for my sense of colour
and the way I carry myself
my staff who are the only ones
that see me nowadays,
bite their ears, saying
” What has happened to amma?
“She looks strange, Overhearing
I walk away smiling , not missing to
see my reflection in the mirror.
Meenas Poems 