fingers no longer kinetic enough to push gently away
your tousled hair, will you remember to acknowledge my hindering absence?
When the doctor checks my pulse for life,
when they move me from rocking chair to cot to bamboo bed,
will your insides crunch, will you miss my nagging presence?
When the I of me has evaporated, when the leaves in trees
come to a standstill, when birds cease their flight midway,
will you pause to dullen your agitated ruminations for a while?
When my burdensome bones and famished flesh are laid to rest
transforming from solidified specimen to weightless whiff of ash,
will you press the urn to your chest, mourning my demise?
When life goes on, as usual, my death a mere date on the calendar,
when you rock your child to sleep, when his tantrums sap your energy,
will you look back in time with regret, rage, or ripened resentment?
When every month on Amaavaasya day, when the cawing crow
outside your window waits for offering on banana leaf
will you feel my invisible vibes blessing you?
When I am a mere upload in your mobile, a motionless picture
on the blank wall behind your chair, will you finally wipe the dust off
a bond that entered to stay with the umbilical cord that fateful day?
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