1
My brothers have shared the picture
on their timelines
of a goddess with ten hands
along with my mother's picture
side by side.
The caption reads-
Happy Mother's Day!
I can't ask the goddess about her
ten hands
But I asked my mother.
She had no time to think
or answer.
The pressure cooker whistles on.
Everyone wants Biryani to celebrate
Mother's Day!
2
I woke up
at the sound of running tap water
on the unwashed dishes of the last night
My father was waiting for his morning tea.
My mother running on her toes.
She can't miss 7 am -
my father's breakfast time.
It's the deadline
My mother can't afford to miss!
She has to pass every single day's exam.
Her exam never ends.
My father waits forever for his morning tea cup.
3
My Mother's Hearth
On this hearth my mother
cooks legacy to pass on
from me, my daughter and so on.
She cooks the smell that I looked for
on her sarees, belly and breasts
when I was a child
and now I sit near her hearth
to soak the same smell with my heart
and soul to preserve my childhood
for my daughter.
I try to learn the art of keeping
the dying flame alive with a fist
of bran
the flame comes alive and my mother's
eyes glitter on.
The chunk of meatballs dance in joy
and the overjoyed drops of broth leap
out on the wings of the hearth.
The same smell of my childhood
passes from my memory to my taste buds.
My daughter embraces me and says -
mamma you smell like Nani.
My mother, me and my daughter
the linearity of unpaid labour
smells sweet in poetry
written in glorification of the
Mother's Day.
(Moumita Alam is a poet from West Bengal. She has published two poetry collections Musings of the Dark and Poems At Daybreak. She has written poems on a variety of subjects including abrogation of Article 370, Shaheen Bagh protest, Delhi riots etc.)
