Nanamma

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Your death left us in a state of camatose

But slowly.. We awaken..

We gasp..

Your soft tone nudges us.

We pray..

Your songs are on our lips now

We close our eyes

And your face replaces the moon

 

Nanamma

Your death taught us the value of life

 

Like the coat of fresh paint,

Our house still smells of you, Nanamma

 

Your anklets and its cham-cham

Your waist band and the silk saree

 

Your sighs and your deep breaths

Reverberate in the seating area, now

 

The plastic Neelkamal that you sat on is empty, often

No one sits on it, anymore.

Rather, we dare not to..

 


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