She saw through her wrinkled eyes
Clear, steady gaze of the sun upon her
And writhed in pain as she moved
To weep silently over the betrayal
He had woken up earlier than her
All these years, her many years
He had only woken up to her prayers
Woke up to her prayers and blessed
Her with a husband and a home
Many daughters and a bright son
All married now, with children
Away and loving, her husband now
Healthy with just a poor liver
Weak eyesight and good gossip
He woke up very early now, earlier
Than my grandmother or the sun
Glancing at her face in early rays
No wrinkles or grey still visible
He grabbed me sleeping there
“Awake. Ask her a cup of coffee”
I pulled the blanket close to me
But she awoke, pressing closer
Her warmth, comforting in dew
Lie on me, she said, and I did
Heavier on her, than her many years
Lying inert on her fragile frame,
He kept tickling me in the bone
He coughed, still she did not rise
Several years, she prayed to him
Repeating penance, year after year
To gain him always, birth after birth
But she was no boon, he thought
All boons become curse in time
But he mellowed not with time
They were right, her parents
A husband is a husband, they said
Be he a stone or grass, not grass
She thought, she married a stone
All these years with him, she sighed
He felt not any less stony now
He slowly put his weak foot down
And sat, dark profile visible in dawn
He stumbled, still she did not stir
He stood still, speaking to me
I shall prepare it myself, he said
But your grandmother’s dirty finger
Has for long it very own taste
Unsurpassed, unsurpassable
Something jerked my grandmother up
Propelling her fast into kitchen
(1999)
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