On the banks of a river....! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Some marigold flowers,
Incense sticks, a match box;
And an earthen diya with wick
In a bowl made of dry leaves
Held together by twigs;
I stood at the banks
Of mother Ganges in Haridwar,
After paying change
To the young boy
Who put it together for me
At that morning hour.
I lit the wick and incense stick,
And holding it in both hands
Walked towards the river bank
And put it in the lap
Of the river, watching it
Join other such offerings,
Made by devotees and kin
Of loved ones gone
A long time or just
The night before.
It was a trip
Long overdue,
To say final goodbye
To my ma and dad,
For I was not with them
When they breathed their last
For reasons beyond my control
Of which they had no clue.
I felt sad,
And missed them bad.
One day feeling desolate
I shared my grief,
Loss and longing
With a dear friend.
Ever compassionate,
She held my hand
And said, let go
As the soul feels in earthly bondage,
Let them rest in peace.
That day in the last week
On that day in the last week of December,
I sat at river bank
Watching the turbulence…
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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