We looked for her in a revived memory
In the greenness of the memorial forest.
A young mango tree flourishes for her
In the vast dome of the academy’s sky.
The boy-keeper says it is fine and green-
At the corner the monkey-God is waiting
To be housed in a reddish-tinged temple
Along with the Goddess with extended tongue.
Here my mom shall flourish in good company
Soon there will be green mangoes hanging
Alongside the morning sun and silver rain
And tiny vivid birds heaving, on its branches,
Their bodies filled with sweetness and song.
(We had planted a mango tree in a Memorial forest in Bhopal in my mother’s memory)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem