
It was a windy day in November,
There was a power cut,
I went upto the chhat,
And lay there under my,
Ma’s colorful sarees,
Billowing in the window,
With each attempt,
Trying to escape the hold,
Of the clothes’ pegs.
With every gush of wind,
The green saree,
Screamed to be let out,
And when the wind left,
The saree tempered down,
And lovingly caressed,
My face in return,
Just like Ma.
Just like Ma,
I thought,
Wanting to be let out.
She wants to flow,
Freely with the wind.
But something or, the
Other always holds,
Her down.
And when she can’t,
She’ll still come back,
And lovingly,
Take me in her arms.
©Darshana Mehta
Note: The saree is a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia.
Note: Chhat refers to the terrace or roof of the house.