Three perspectives of an evocative poem by Mamta.

A dinner thrown as farewell
The guests lovingly swell
Ambience, menu perfect
The bar too well laced
The mood quasi-festive
A loving couple restive
After three quarters of nested life
The coherent dilemma
Of living or leaving loses fluency
Uprooted forcibly, they now talk relocation

***

                He

Dining in his favourite restaurant
Will there be a next time?
Fuzzy mind’s adrift
the food remains uneaten
His guts in a churn
His home had been a gift
A beautiful wife, healthy children
Fate had send his way
Now who would tend his parents’ grave?
His garden in disarray
Would the fruit trees be felled?
What about his winged friends
Now that he would be forever away
Would the new flat be his home?
No friends to wine and dine
A half lit world in makeshift places
The muzzled sunrise and the sunset
Would never have the same shine

***

                     She

Always elegant and serene
Beatific smile and grace
Her movements a tad feeble, growing slow with age
Eyes sans their sheen
The glass shakes in her hand
As she notices her partner’s moist gaze
Conjure images of friends, fun
The pot lucks, the bonfire, the bonhomie
All sparkling moments
lasting briefly as good times always do
But a broken hip after a heart attack
Her son convinces her to let go
His busy life hampered the distance
The travel to and fro
The newness of surroundings
new bonds frayed at seams
Twenty-four hours with her son’s family
How long would the perfect mask stay
A reckless remark may abuse
The rare hospitality
None can answer the question
Her fertile mind in full sway
Would she ever come back?
With no options left here
Except decay
Like premature death visiting them,
In a slow torturous way
Before the show gets over
they must take their final bow

 ***

                  Son

His umbilical cord with home
Snapped a long time ago
No premium education
Glitzy jobs at bay
Selling the house was his decision
A tough one as they wouldn’t sway
“No” said his parents, “No way”
Stolid as he was, he held his way
Two helpless and fragile souls
Could age be whisked away?
He bought a small flat nearby
Comfortable for them to stay
His wife might have issues
Well, he cannot say
His life might be affected
Not used to looking after
their nurture and care
Nothing can be done now
It’s willed that way
To play see-saw with chaos and peace
Balancing life everyday
Relieved for the last dinner
Restless to end the day
in the city of aborted dreams
He never liked anyway.

Picture design Anumita Roy

Mamta Joshi

Mamta Joshi did her post graduation in History from University of Allahabad. She writes short stories, reflective essays, prose pieces on everyday life in national dailies and international e-magazines. She writes with equal ease in Hindi. For over two decades, as a teacher of English in college section at SMC, Allahabad, she has been interacting with young minds, understanding their pulse and in turn being savvy on technology, fitness, fashion, humour and rumour too.