Flower shows and fruit shows
kept us busy those days.
My mother, an avid gardener
bagged prizes for her gardens
flowers, fruits and vegetables.
I ran up the podium to receive
the awards and rolling cups
year after year, Newspapers
flashed the ceremony,
news reel recorded
the prize winning entries.
Back home, my friends,
congratulated me as if
I was responsible for the grandeur.
Little did I know, that the one behind
was my amma, being too young
to understand.
Having inherited a part of her skill
doing certain assignments
with the same passion as hers. those
being very few when compared to her
activities , One more, I should add,
My stage is not as extensive
as hers, being a miniature.
Less fortunate by all means.
Meenas Poems 