Where are you, my mother?

Where are you, my mother

as a little girl fingers flying 

over musical keyboards,

singing with a soft, sweet voice,

smashing balls across the tennis table,

lobbing shuttles across the net 

in badminton, Saina like,

clearing carroms in one play

reading books by the bushel,

writing endless drafts to perfect

stories, novel & essays galore

learning languages many

passionate about Sitar

in spite of cleaning rice, ruining eyes

with hands worn by vegetables peeled,

parched by work in the house,

wrinkled by age & experience, 

where are you now? 

- R. Ramachandra (2021)