“Domestic front lousy”-
the chronic comments I ever hear,
I swear to clean every nook and corner
and dispel all doubts
to prove me a competent home-maker.
“Do away with all trash and garbage”
I say to myself
and open a large cabinet.
Take out all articles therein,
get surprised to find
a yellow stained paper.
My father’s affectionate missive
when I was in a hostel
in my college 1st year.
Keeping it aside
I find a woolen piece
dark in colour;
befuddled to see a sweater
which had enclosed me in my school days
for many a winter.
The woolen robe is a well-knit output
of my dearest mother.
Curious to see more I find
a semi sealed envelope,
glue still fresh to stick,
the thick bundle that comes out
is the letter of my husband
when we had a few ‘dates’
before our marriage
and he had doted on me with that.
A few streaks of colour
when start to appear
I gleefully see
my daughter’s paint with crayon
when she was less than five
‘The Sun’, ’Trees’ and ‘Hut’
on which she used to thrive.
I now prioritize
which one to throw away?
And remorsefully reminisce
my bygone days.
Even if my father writes another such letter
will it not evade
reaching its destination?
With my mom’s debilitated eyesight
she needs the support of her daughter.
With this state of health
can she finish another sweater?
An arch rival has now overpowered me,
my husband is married to his profession,
leaving me into oblivion.
Will he ever treat me
with the same emotion?
My daughter is transformed
Into a different entity.
Can I retrieve her
I cling to my priceless possessions,
embrace my ‘trash’ and ‘garbage’,
adorned with unrestrained tears.
Herald the ‘disorganized’, ’clumsy’ kingdom
where I choose to reign as a queen
for all the coming years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem