Bread, a small packet
the one with the dried fruits
what do they call it?
...ah! whatever.
Eggs ten,
vegetables, the usual
buy in grams
not in kilos,
unlike you usually do,
ketto?
The prices have gone high
What is the word for that?
............ah! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! whatever.
Milk in the blue packets
three numbers,
Appam maav for breakfast
and some of those
round brown ones
we use for curry
What is it called?
.........ah! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! you know
don't you?
she asks, the frown
never leaving her face.
She comes back
with my suitcase
and says
they charge for those too..
those plastic things
what do you call them..?
I nod.
For sometime now
I only nod,
as I can see that she forgets
what once I used to forget
out of sheer negligence.
And it leaves me scared.
I put back the suitcase
Take the big shopper
kisses her on her brow
and leaves.
She barely notices.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem