Mother of All Mothers
K. Radhakumar *
Her husband, a brick layer
Who drank like a fish
Ultimately drank himself to death.
She loved her drunkard of a husband
And prayed for his soul to rest at peace
When she sometimes remembered him at night
Beautiful and quiet like death
On her warm bed
Long after all the noise and bustle
In the town fell fast asleep.
Widowed at forty
A street vendor one month later
At Khwairamband Bazar of Imphal.
Oh, Imphal!
A fertile valley surrounded by green hills
So beloved by gods and goddesses,
Amphitheatre of ancient Greece!
She earned her living by selling vegetables
And could be as foul-mouthed as life itself.
One moment, she screamed a string of obscenities
At the poor soul of Imphal constabulary
Before bribing him with ten bucks.
The next, she smiled and made amends
For giving him a piece of her mind
– Her self-respect intact
And developed peaceful co-existence
Into fine philosophy, a way of life.
She threw a tantrum
And made life dance to her tune
Keeping death at arm's length.
For our mother of all mothers
The only reality is
A handful of rice
Come rains, come shine.
Confronting life without wearing a make-up
Surviving ravages of time again and again
And yet again
Two square meals a day
Is the be-all and end-all of her existence
For she has two hungry mouths to feed –
Her mother-in-law
With hair as white as snow,
Stone-deaf, remnant of the last century;
A good-for-nothing son.
A drug addict, to be precise
* Poem written by K. Radhakumar which was published at The Sangai Express
This poem was webcasted on July 23, 2017.
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