This is a poem about my paternal grandmother's younger sister. We called her Chotothakuma and she was a great storyteller with a never say die attitude. Cancer took her from us. A few weeks before she died, she called me to her room and told me that she had fought many battles in her life, but this battle was one she could not win. However she also said, with a smile on her face and a mischievous twinkle in her eye, that if Death did want her, then Death would have to catch her first.
In memory of Reba Dam, sister, aunt and grandmother.
This festive season
We are to be merry
My mind remembers your smile
How you made us merry
How you told stories
Walking stick at your side
We never knew you would go so fast
We knew you wouldn't go gentle
I miss the twinkle in your eye
I miss the chocolates on Diwali
The Asterix comic you gifted me
Is on my bookshelf
Betel nut sellers and their masala a memory
Thank you for proving to me
That courage isn't a man with a gun in his hand
Ma sobbed over the phone
I couldn't find the tears to mourn you
I don't think that's what you'd want though
You'd want me to keep smiling
Travel by unknown roads
With your blessing to guide me
Like the North Star guides lost souls
As this festive season draws to a close
We raise our glasses to you, Chotthakuma
And smiling turn to the dying light
The Bilge Master
No comments:
Post a Comment