Coming home for summer?
Well, its a long story, you see!
I get asked this question often,
When the sunshine is warm and pleasant,
People pack up and leave in haste,
For that family reunion bliss.
I remember how home felt,
The fragrance of Biryani in the air,
Mom, busy preparing to welcome me,
Dad arranging a proxy at his office,
For a day off, so he could pick me,
My five year old brother jumping with joy,
For the toys I would bring as gifts.
When I left home he was an infant,
I remember the day of my departure,
I did not even go to his room,
He was asleep and I was too weak.
I wanna go home, play with him,
Gossip and chat with mom on lazy afternoons,
Cook chinese for Dad, who doesnt have a choice,
but to admire my cooking…
Christmas passed and so did summer,
I weep alone, live in fear.
Fear that sooner or later they will give me away,
And then, I may not be able to see them…
People ask questions, put undue pressure
As if marraige is the only pleasure.
But once you are with a man,
Your priorities change, your time is scarce.
Conflicts arise, bans implemented,
Blood relationships wither like a dry flower.
A daughter is considered a known stranger,
A wife is treated like an imposter.
I AM NONE!
So, I built my own lonely world,
I sleep alone, I eat alone, I live alone.
I do miss mying on Moms lap,
and also ball dancing with Dad without music.
Afternoons of patting my baby brother to sleep,
Shedding a tear or two thinking about separation,
And then falling asleep, pressing him to my chest
And holding his tiny hands in mine…
I am 27, I know am not a little girl anymore,
One day I will have to marry and exit my parents home,
But I am not anyones property,
I am the same little girl who danced around this house,
ruined Momys lipsticks and baked caked for Dad with tiny hands…
There might be a great guy waiting,
To hold mg hand firm at the aisle,
But I cant let go my Dads hand,
Just to go and hold another…
I have two hands
I want to keep holding my Dads too.
The very same hands which held me
when I fell down and broke my knee.
Those hands have wrinkles now
And each passing day, they loose sturdiness.
They need to be held firmly,
They need me.
Please don’t ask me again,
If I am going home for summer…