By Varsha Mohan
An old lady sat yonder,
beside the temple gate,
I tried to pass but I wonder,
her eyes made me want to wait.
Myself, a girl of ten, knew,
nothing of deep desire,
her eyes spoke aloud, seen in few,
she signaled me to sit beside her.
Draped in an off-white sari,
scanty gray in a tiny bun,
she looked at me kindly,
maybe I reminded her of someone.
She wanted to say something I guessed,
more like her heart wanted to pour,
more like she saw somebody she missed,
in me, someone she once cared for.
I was too young to understand,
strong emotions of such kind,
I hesitantly touched her wrinkled hand,
'Don't be sad', was all I could find.
She gently stroked my head,
gave me a sad smile,
took my hand in hers and said,
'Dear, to me your time was worthwhile'.
She placed a bright red flower,
with her soft hands on my hair,
'I'll never forget you dear, ever',
was all she whispered in my ear.
And so I entered the temple gate,
the last five minutes on my mind,
worried mother wondering why I'm late,
looking out for me but could not find.
I didn't say a word,
and moved ahead with my mother,
I felt I did a little good in this world,
I felt better than any other.
My mother told me to pray,
pray for good health and prosperity,
but to the Lord, all I could say,
was take good care of that nice old lady.