My Mother at 66 : Kamala Das

Driving from my parent's
home to Cochin last Friday
morning, I saw my mother,
beside me,
doze, open mouthed, her face
ashen like that
of a corpse and realised with
pain
that she thought away, and
looked but soon
put that thought away, and
looked out at young
trees sprinting, the merry children spilling
out of their homes, but after the airport's
security check, standing a few yards
away, I looked again at her, wan,
pale
as a late winter's moon and felt that
old familiar ache, my childhood's fear,
but all I said was, see you soon,
Amma,
all I did was smile and smile and
smile.


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