Yes, I am talking of my granny
She visited me again
Late at night, looking lively and bright
In a crisp white saree clad
And I recalled how dad
Down her throat would lovingly pour
Cupfuls of home- made ice-cream.
Ah, that long forgotten dream!
She wanted an encore
So he poured and poured
But she still asked for more.
Yes, I am talking of my granny.
Last night, on my forehead she planted a kiss
Long back I had read a story in every crevice
Some notes of a haunting melody
Still lingered in some cranny
Of that emaciated body.
Ah, those songs of my granny!
Yes, she too was young once
But seriously considered me a dunce.
Her eyes had a merry twinkle
I could read between her every wrinkle.
Hear the stealthy footfall of villainous age
Slowly settling between those lines.
Where did those teeth go?
I had asked her once
But she did not know
So, I quipped, “not me , you are the dunce.”
And she chortled in delight
In staccato bursts of unrestrained glee.
.Yes, I am talking of my granny .
Last night she kept looking at me and then went past
Was she fast!
Sitting in time’s winged chariot
She sailed away .
I was left with a lump in my throat
Ah, I had missed the boat!
Was she up there in the moon?
I mumbled “granny , I will be there soon.”
Yes, I just talked of my granny.