Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Contents of a Suitcase

Kanjivaram silk saris, made to order
In vibrant hues of all kind.
A lone kasavu mundu with a golden border
She’d hardly wear them, never mind.
A tiny bottle of Indulekha hair oil
To be applied regularly, Amma had said
You won’t get all this on foreign soil
So please take care of your hair while it’s still on the head.
Pickled lime, mango in brine
Banana and jackfruit chips.
For a taste of home, you’ll no longer whine
Amma had said with a smile on her lips.
And now here she is in a faraway land
Comforted by this slice of home,
She gazed out at the stretches of sand
As the sun set behind the mosque dome.

4 comments:

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

Contents of a Suitcase

Kanjivaram silk saris, made to order
In vibrant hues of all kind.
A lone kasavu mundu with a golden border
She’d hardly wear them, never mind.
A tiny bottle of Indulekha hair oil
To be applied regularly, Amma had said
You won’t get all this on foreign soil
So please take care of your hair while it’s still on the head.
Pickled lime, mango in brine
Banana and jackfruit chips.
For a taste of home, you’ll no longer whine
Amma had said with a smile on her lips.
And now here she is in a faraway land
Comforted by this slice of home,
She gazed out at the stretches of sand
As the sun set behind the mosque dome.

4 comments: