I remember…

I remember those days
When I used to sit
Behind the bars of my window
And stare at the newly blooming
Gulmohar tree,
The red, orange and yellow
Hiding dots of green.
Sometimes at the withering
Neem beneath it
Or the shedding leaves
Of the sad asoka
Dreaming endlessly
Ignoring the open books and cooling coffee.
Those days my mother
Used to phone her sisters and brothers
To chatter unendingly
About the intellectual I was becoming,
‘ She thinks a lot these days
On each word of her book’.
She dreamed of another Marie Curie
Perhaps another Kamala Das
Though she knew nothing about them.
The day I stopped staring
At the gulmohar, I remember,
I exposed myself at my mother’s feet.
Trembling, I finished it,
That I was in love.
She closed my window forever
Tore my book, burned the gulmohar
And pushed me to a corner.
Sensing nothing could be done
To my dreams
She stopped her chatters,
Cursed the trees, plants, flowers,
Books, writers and whoever
Have made me a weak ordinary girl.
I smiled , knowing ,
Finally the phone charges would come down.

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Fathima Manal

Dreams,fantasies,words and rhythm-other than skin,bones and muscles I am made up of these.With every drop of blood that my heart pumps,a new dream forms in me.With every breathe,i take the surroundings too inside me.And my poems are just the minute regurgitants of what i accumulate within. I am a doctor from Kerala,India,who should not be supposed to but is in deeply love with words and books more than medical books.Hope you enjoy my poems......

5 thoughts on “I remember…

  1. pramilakhadun

    I am touched by this great poem which leaves so many unanswered questions in my mind.All the best dear poet.

    Reply

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