Poem | Akila G

Source: https://pixabay.com/


Syllables of suprabhatam
cross-stitch parrots and rice kolams
in 3”x3” prints for high rise corridors
where the last number dialed is of
Murugan water tanker.

(My collar necklace of flower seeds
from the Gulmohar was long fed
to a borewell of dry spells)

The Natesan Park dilutes
the salt, sugar, weight and wallet
with herbal concoctions sold in mobile vans
the Marina spume-kisses
a sticker on the treadmill

The third generation malayali tea shop
stands up to wafting aromas of filter kaapi
He seeks an engineering seat
for his daughter in Kerala.

Maami swipes her itinerary
and GPS in an english
when she talks of visiting her children in the US
the snow there harsher on her breath and knees
during the December music festival.
Un-metered auto rickshaws, share autos,
gprs-skilled cabs
are humid for her thalappu.

The dawn re-carves itself
every summer holiday

They say nothing is constant

or have I come of age?


Suprabhatam: Morning hymns invoking the Gods.
Kolams: designs made of rice flour.
Kaapi: Coffee, Maami: Aunty, Thalappu: the edge of a sari.

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