A Mournful Revelation Poem by DILIPBHASKER MATHRA

She was feeble
Her face was wrinkled
She never begged or asked
But always got she something.
Her child followed her
Like a shadow now and then,
Often she came to the bank
Of the river, looked to the horizon,
Then to the boats ferry the people
Those came from far,
She waited there impatiently
From morn to noon
While her child played in the sand
Making holes and forts.
When ferry men tie their boats
She would move to her hut
Not far from the river.
Evening she walked through the temple
Bowed before the goddess
Asked in despair “Mother when do
You bring him back? ”
The quest ended in whisper,
Her eyes filled with tears.
The priest would give her
Rice enfolded in a banana leaf.
Then she moved out slowly
With her child behind.
She expects the return of
Some one, might be her husband
Once died in the river.
A story of tragedy
All the villagers know well.