Remembering an Evening with Grandma

Aribam Surjeet Sharma
It was one evening of an autumn day.
Grandma, sitting under a champak tree
And looking at me playing in the orchard,
Was in contemplation, not sharing my joy.

Me a little girl, and she an old woman,
Our lives were to overlap only briefly
A truth inescapable that, perhaps, left her
In contemplation tinged with sadness.

Then, a gust of wind from nowhere,
Sending an old yellow leaf fluttering
Down and down at her feet--an event
Which left her contemplative face somber.

Now, behind the western hills,
The sun was slowly sinking
And very soon a shroud of darkness
Would cover the weary world.

Presently, another gust of wind
And, this time, many were the champaks
That fell down all around grandma,
Giving the place a celebratory look.

Running to them and picking them up,
I uttered these words to her;
'Grandma, all these can be offerings
To lord Krishna in our morning worship '

Then, like the bright sunshine breaking
Through dark clouds on a cloudy day,
A serene smile broke slowly and gently
Through the somber pall over her face.