Aruna
by Ashok Gupta


"Here,you had left them on the basin"
she says.
I don't remember asking for the spectacles
I was searching for.
She has this habit of reading my mind.

I watch her ironing clothes
while viewing a television serial.
I peep into her room
and carry my guilt back to the computer,
poetry and emails
and await those who share my passion;
whom she calls my girlfriends and smiles.

In the silence of the late afternoon
the tinkle of utensils in the kitchen
tell me she has woken up
and the house will brighten
with the solidity of her presence

Then I remember the day
she carried in a tray laden
with tea and sweets
and I whispered in my mother's ear
"Yes".

And the letters lying
dormant in the briefcase in the store
hidden from the prying eyes
of our daughter.

Take your medicines
she grumbles
placing a glass of water
in my hand.
I look up at her and smile.y






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