Wednesday, January 18, 2012


Salt and pepper hair, wherever i see it, always reminds me of my granma. A few words fell into place in my head, while i thought of that silent, peaceful, antidote to all the craziness in the world. Nani.

Hair that cascades down her age bent back
like rivulets of a still young stream
sprayed about, salt and pepper, shades of black and grey
and a fluffy white cloud like dream
Mindless utterances, soulful and comforting
escape her wrinkled lips
her toothless grin, her double chin.
her comb sweeps though her wizened mane,
while she sits there, doing her hair, idling away precious time.
cardamom, cloves, snuff and jasmine
welcoming, comforting, her embrace, her head
nestled close above my head, as i sit on her lap.
five years since you're gone

Nani, your still missed.

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