By Arya Ajay
Confined In Saree
Amidst the kitchen's clean lines, a saree's fold,
A restless spirit trapped in duty's hold.
Cinnamon's sharp bite dances with cardamom's warmth,
Awakening a thick aroma - the kitchen air, begins to fight against weary sighs.
A gentle nap claimed Achan's form,
He stretched upon the couch, peaceful norm.
He drifted off where dreams would wander.
Eyes locked on Amma's form
Flesh to metal, through slowly passing decades.
As midday's feast took shape,
All pots chimed, creating a rhythmic clatter,
A choir of spoons tapped a lively beat.
Glistening chains wear down her neck
Molded in the body's heat, not silver.
With tireless hands, Amma, a human machine,
Kept on spinning the world, a tireless routine.
No rust in her spirit, no pause for a sigh.
"Why couldn't she rest, let the burdens unwind for once?"
With a lingering look, I tore my gaze away,
Lost in the echoes of joyful yesterday.
Memories dance, tuning with bittersweet melody.
As a child then, I floated on swings,
But time itself unfolds, a cryptic riddle.
My frock danced, in the trace of carefree days,
Turned into saree, whispers of tales
Yet untold, of dreams growing cold.
Anklets that jingled with excitement
Now heavy burdens, climbing the steps.
Each step a weight, weight of my years.
Unvoiced questions swirled around me.
"What happened, life?
Why is it everything whispered low?"
Laughter. Tear. All eyes were on me.
The almond tree, friend to whisper dreams
Stands still now.
Dolls lie forgotten,
Their painted smile unseen.
Pillow's softness, a comfort yet unseen.
All my prized possessions, which once were vibrant and blissful,
Now muted echoes, where they don't belong.
Aunty's constant drumbeat low words.
"These walls won't hold you for long.
You are no longer a child,
Time to bloom, a woman's gleam."
Desperation burns, a fire I fights to keep,
A hidden dream, a chance to outrun.
My thoughts were intruded
by the whirring of the mixer.
I turned, casting a fleeting glance towards Amma's hands,
All the scars and burns revealed the truth.
I was intrigued enough to ask Amma.
"Amma, do you have a dream?"
Amma smiled slowly,
A whispered answer, soft and sad.
"I don't remember anything now."