Rituals and customs
turn back breaking,
It is Pongal,
A decade back
it was different
age was beside,
help was in abundance.
It turns out to be an one
woman show,
Pongal in the courtyard
earthen pots and mud stoves,
firewood, and decorations,
curries and broths
being almost nine in count
clubbed with the auspicious,
timings make me pant,
The day before resolved
to cut short the menu,
stick to the main ones
somehow go back to the age old
custom, been doing
for 48 years, apprehensive
any miss out ,be it the number,
could lead to unpleasantness..
Meticulous! I appreciate,
Not long, sudden onset of pain
from the knees and hands
debilitates, holding my knee
I settle on my bed. smiling
and sobbing at the same time.
Meenas Poems 