My Grandmother - Poem by Boishakhi Mitro
The earliest memories that i've of her..............
A septugenarian bend over a stove in the kitchen.....
Tirelessly taking care of a clan of thirty!
A mother of not less than twelve.............
A dimunitive figure, bent with age,
Constantly smilling an indulgent grandparent.
Never thought of her as an independent entity!
She was just there, would always be.
The same way, it was taken for granted!
And she still is, taken for granted! ! !
She lost her partner of seventy years,
And with him, she lost all coherence.
Today she is lost among her myriad worlds,
Walls and roofs around her make no sense.
She belongs to none, a mother of living ten!
Often i find our worlds interconnected, drawing inspiration and strength.
To accept the unexpected with as much grace.
At ninety-three almost a cabbage, dependent on others, sorrow n joy to whom are same!
The Gen-X have no time for trivialsTo nurture its roots and take care!
Wrapped-up in their own fake world, Lost in individual rummages!
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