Sun friend

Why am I teary unexpectedly? Could it be the love for my grandparents, the loss of a family member, goodbyes of all kind,
The limping dog down the street
Quick infatuations, and false expectations
Sweet motherland, who seeks no expectations
Being sick in this heaven full of empathy
Asking for nothing in return, but only to inhale the scent of mother’s cooking
In the arms of my homeland that rocks me gently while I weep, passing time, watching the streets and making the best out of each hour, as slowly as can be, as if time is way too quick to pass on by, with my friend by my side; the kind sun from dawn till dusk.



Mothers of the East


Dot on forehead
And the red powder along your parted hairs, like a red brick road.
The smell of roses, temples, and all things holy, heartbreaking, and nostalgic.
The thought of gods and a plate full of flowers for offerings,
Held by arms close to your frightened chest; a plate full of hopes and aspirations for your husband and children.
You are the adorable mothers of the east,
painfully sweet, and painfully strong for the sacrifices you’ve made.
In godly stone icons I see you
In every place of worship, you stand.
I miss you so
mothers, grandmas, aunties
You are so far away in my distant memory.

You shimmer along the flickering lamplights of the hilltop temple with your golden jewelry adorned,
Red beads around your neck and red cotton saree
Red dot on forehead and the red powder,
Holy and auspicious like goddess Laxmi
And I can never be half the woman you are.