Author: meenas17

A maid by my side 
an aged driver on wheels 
I go to  college 
just at the moment 
when the bell  rings.

Both see me get inside 
the campus , then turn 
back home. The college 
known for its  discipline 
where  a crow cannot   peep 
through the windows,

The head of the institution
 being my mother’s best friend
always has an eye on me.
In the middle of the  class
she summons me,  much 
to my bewilderment,

” You have been friendly 
with   Sheba for quiet some time”.
 I nod. ‘No harm, but keep 
a distance from her 
as her head is full of lice,
you will be affected”

Visualizing lice  jumping 
and clinging to my hair,
 I walk with a smile,
Oh! my mom cannot prevent 
this invasion,  Will she 
appoint another bodyguard?

Living in a place where I was born
 for decades together,  almost 
like a in a shell,   

To school I went, then follows 
the University, did not shop, or party,
  a house bird  in all,

At home of my own where I start 
the family with kids coming up,
 a mother all through.

 Mix with the community to an extent
 attend weddings and funerals 
  a  compulsory social commitment,

Back  home, I remain with 
children living far away,
 I and my husband  together,

We spend time, he in his work place 
I in mine, both at home seeing 
in intervals, talking at times.

Silence  travels with me from
 the day I was born, wish
 it  will accompany me to the end.

That takes me to the climate,
 as all of us turn apprehensive
 the change and its aftermath 
 makes us absolutely nervous.

Going with defiance,  scorning
 and humiliating the environment 
 by our arrogant attitude, negligence 
of the havoc we implicate.

Rivers get chocked with debris, drainage
 is filled with trash, felling of trees,
realtors make hay by selling unauthorized 
lands, with the blessings of the ruling . 

We know this would be the result,
 even then we work hard towards 
destruction, killing not that around
 but ourselves and ourselves,

The deluge I witness near home,
 cause of greed  and pure self  deceit
 puts the community in hazard,
 leaving most  homeless and penniless.

Driving through the floods in posh 
Mercedes and Porsche, politicians 
offer solace to the affected who 
stand in the rain holding an empty bowl.

A day of toil, both
physical and mental
put together
turns me mad,

I slam the door,
throw my reading 
materials, burn the 
milk, scorch the pan,

Behaving  rude, I scream 
at my  gardener Krishna,
the only one available
listens without a retort.

The ones who co exist 
look at me with an unease.
They include my family,
 my furniture, my  garden.
( they too  breathe life)

Never have they seen me 
take the role of a devil,
to them I am always an angel
gentle and soft.

A while after, I see my reflection
 in the mirror, eyes  welling 
nose twittering, face  red 
with rage,  “It is not me,
not me”, I whisper.

why do I feel
 that way? 
I do not know.

I am drawn towards
 such syndrome,
 a  feeling of despair  
amiss and lost.

It is a set pattern
that haunts me 
in the night mostly 
after two o’ clock.

Lying straight. 
face facing the 
ceiling, I think 
of the wildest of wild,

I sense a sign 
of unfulfillment, having 
wasted my life doing 
nothing  worthy.

Tossing over, 
burying my head 
in  the pillow,  I 
weep silently.

The clock strikes 
4,  sleep  enfolds.
All  happens for 2 hours
resolves on is own

The close of the day,
 exasperated I settle down,
 It is been terrific 
the past few days
with none of my staff 
back to work,

I am doing the chores 
cooking  turns elaborate,’ 
cleaning is cumbersome
 Mopping, dusting, drains 
my life out.  The aftermath 
of festivals,

In the morn, I watch the gate
 eager to see at least one of them 
trekking in for work  that much
 lesser work ‘for me,  oh! no.
 Grabbing  the broom!  
I begin my day.

.

it is, I cry watching 
the rains,  incessant 
 and forceful it pours
allowing no space,
turns impertinent. 

Rivers, unable to hold anymore
flow inwards , flooding 
the roads and streets,
submerging the low lying area
become imperious.

 I sigh!  Well, this characteristic 
seems common,  Man, Nature,
Animals, reverse, relent and recant, 
for reasons unknown and unheard. 
Cannot avoid a sense of bitterness.

A calm  sea,
the day before, loses 
its temper rages in fury t
he day after up go the waves 
with a roar, down they fall 
with a thud. An ongoing disaster,

it is a collapse. houses 
on  sea shore tumble
head over heels
float in the water 
go into the profound.
No trace of  a brick,
 whatsoever.

Watching them fall,
 I think of unholy 
those of a family 
which stood the test
of times with grace
succumbing to vile 
and greed.

 It drifts apart, with little 
of its past.  Hunger  has 
gobbled its status, thirst 
has  gulped the unity,
there lies a skeleton 
 bones protruding,
a ghastly sight 
whatsoever.

I feel an oneness 
with my house,
inanimate as it is
breathes life.

The verandah where I read
the day’s  newspaper
greets me lovingly,
 with cheer.

Entertaining  the guests 
the living room  spreads warmth, 
echoes their  laughter
records the banter.

So does the dining.
in all its grandeur, an aroma  
 permeates from the elaborate 
courses served.

The kitchen, needless to say 
smokeless and clean, a place
where menus get prepared 
 a fragrance prevails.

I find a bondage with my study,
 a friendship with the books 
and the  authors develops 
unknowingly,

Finally my bed solicits  me
an high pillow, makes me rest 
my head on , like a mother   
lulls me to a deep slumber.

It is Diwali, joy enfolds,
wishes fly in the air
mobile phones experience 
a sweep, no more greeting 
cards,  emojis, Gifs,  videos 
swarm in like wild bees.

Waking up to the noise
of exploding fire crackers,
 I climb down the stairs,
 go through a leisurely
 oil bath, a must for Diwali,
warming the sesame oil .
gently rubbing through the hair,
massaging the body, washing off 
with  Shikakai rinsing with 
warm water, 

being a physical cleaning of the body 
along with the spiritual cleansing 
of the mind. Perform an abridged   puja,
followed by marking  new dress with turmeric
paste being another  tradition I adhere too. 
 I walk to the nearby temple, draped 
in a new green saree, worship  for a while
break coconuts and return home

 for a heavy feast.   The ceremonial 
oil bath induces sleep,  My eyes close , however 
much I tryt o keep them open, I sleep  
 hours  together as there are none 
to wake me up, except my husband 
who is engrossed in browsing.  Past the age 
when children would bother demanding 
things unheard off or engaging in quarrels,
 I dream of peace on earth and the contentment 
that comes with it.