HER

Every time I see a rainbow in the sky,

I wish she was there to share the sight

face upturned awash with joy

like a child with her first toy.

Every time I make vegetable chowmein,

I feel her absence; in tears sautee onions,

carrots, beans, capsicum, remain uncooked,

her favourite dish can no more perfect.

Every time I roll out chappatis that balloon

thrown on the flame, my head swoons;

she loved it with dollops of butter spread,

dunked in Darjeeling tea favourite breakfast

Every time I wear her Kanjeevaram saree,

recall how she'd struggle to make the pleats

'please will you set it right for me' would plead

once upon a time she had taught me.

Roles get reversed as we grow in age

Like nature's reverse osmosis process

Once a mother becomes the daughter.

Daughter mothers mother who nurtured.

There are days when I feel her presence

every second, every moment mostly July

- her marriage month

- to me gave birth.

- lost her mirth,

dementia, struck never recovered.

Quietly exited from this earth.