Second Childhood Poem by Pankajam Kottarath

Great uncle, eighty six, a chronic bachelor,
known for penny-pinching all his good life
prudence shrunk, vision poor, memory fading,
once used to loosen his waist belt after each meal
became obstinate, an hour it took to feed him.
Almost a roll back; A second childhood.

At a big bang and a feeble moan
Mom rolled up the lantern wick
and in the dim yellow light we saw
uncle lying on the floor, static.
His legs touched the floor after months,
After a few seconds of silence, he asked,
”Could you not catch that rupee note
that was flying around? ”

Mom almost burst into a laugh
yet instantly succeeded in hiding,
but I, a girl of eight then, could not,
till I met with her dilated pupils.
To feel his innocence once again
I pass my fingers over his picture.