To Cross The Road Poem by Chhavi Anupam

In my plush
official ambassador
that rolls
on the road,

I take
my mother along
on my way
to office

to dropp her
at the hospital,
for her,
post valve replacement,

PT blood –tests.
You see,
the bureaucracy there
cannot function,

without cogs
like me,
in my rush of heavier
government burdens,

I dropp her
by the road,
in front
of the hospital.

Thinking
Oh! the traffic is less
she will be
in a minute,

able to cross it,
but to my surprise
my mother got
down, with effort,

a polythene bag
containing
her reports
in her hand.

She stops by
the side of the road
watches this way
and that,

collects herself
and with
unsteady steps
totters on,

a shrieking scooter
zooms by,
startled, she shirks
and to her bag clings,

Slowly she takes,
not the steps
but the ramp,
and enters,

the hospital,
I realize
mother has become,
like a rag doll,

wrapped-up
in a long saree,
heavier than her
she is frail…now.

Though,
not so aged,
but her fright,
her scare,

her unsteady steps,
her unsure
gaze
tell it all.

Perhaps
she wanted
a hand
to hold

to cross that
short, but busy road
Oh! just a
hand to hold,

ladies and gentlemen
are you aware
mothers too
grow old!


****