My grandmother has an almirah

p

o

e

m

My grandmother has an almirah

in the corner of her red tiled dinning room

Where she stores her years

in bits and pieces

Like shopping receipts

Tagged to rusty hairpins

and broken mirrors.

She sits on the floor

and pulls out the lower drawers

every other day, eagerly

as if she yearns to find,

among treasures withheld

in small rubber-banded newspaper packs,

A baby, she misplaced years aback.

Her sarees

dry washed and folded

are on the upper decks

Where, in-between bosoms ironed

she hid her market savings

for her new found culinary taste

From across the street end bake house.

Her deserted desires

of fleshly warmth

and cravings carnal,

tarnished and disguised

as jasmine knots

for the backyard demigod.

When she dies

They will clad her

in one of those wedding silks

and suffocate her

In that unused dusty smell

That day she will get her garlands back

Fresh and heavy

on her worn out heart.

They will choke her way

with stinking sweat and incense dope

While,

I shall see her sitting

Legs stretched and absorbed

on that almirah floor

Counting coins from her sewed up backpacks

May be, for her favorite black coffee

and later, a frilled baby frock

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2 Responses to “My grandmother has an almirah”


  1. 1 അന്യന്‍ ഒക്ടോബര്‍ 23, 2010 -ല്‍ 6:52 pm

    good narration … this almarah has given on her wedding day by her parents…. so she keeps all her valuables in that…

  2. 2 MOHANAKUMAR ഒക്ടോബര്‍ 24, 2010 -ല്‍ 5:07 am

    Good.Remembering a granma is a great thing.


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