My Grandmother's Earrings

By Priyamvada K.E.

A pair of golden flowers,
Their petals curved and shining,
Their edges smoothed by a goldsmith’s skilled hands,
Once blossomed on my grandmother’s ears.

She went to college, hoped to study further,
But was married and soon became a young mother.
She raised eight children, and spent her days
Busily nurturing their lives.

Old age caught up with her, as she sat on her veranda,
Reading the newspaper, with her beloved cats nearby.
Her earrings passed on to my mother and me,
Golden memories of her pure love…

‘But we don’t wear these earlier designs now.
What shall we do with them?’ I ask my mother.
‘We’ll make them into pendants,’ she says,
Calm inheritor of her mother’s practical wisdom.

So, a younger jeweller removes the stalks
And strings each golden flower on a strand of pearls.
The necklace wraps around my neck,
Like a foremother’s loving embrace.

I confidently set out for a work event,
Saree neatly draped, ready to make my voice heard,
Because at my throat blossoms a golden flower
That once bloomed on my grandmother’s ear.