Mortar

By Shragvi Yadav

A house made of bricks,

Bricks and mortar and sand,

The blue tulips of my grandma’s home,

This is not my home, my pursuit—where is my land?

Do you still brush your fingers o’er my photographs?

Grandma,

Where is your home?

Where is your embrace?

Where am i?

A house made of bricks,

Bricks and mortar and sand,

Fairytales, wrinkled hands and the cardamom in your breath fanned my young skin,

If i fall sick, will you bring me your medicine, grandma?

Look, I hid your glasses, 

Look I came to you,

Bring me sleep grandma,

I’ve been awake for far too long now.

Bring me my carefree mind,

Bring me myself grandma,

I wonder, where i am,

Am I still in your verandah?

Your rice cans?

Do you know my dreams, Grandma?

Do you know where they live now?

Ignorance took over—disguised as worldly applause,

With a cost I didn’t know I’d have to pay,

I was faintly losing you, I was losing myself in your old house,

A house made of bricks,

Bricks and mortar and sand,

The blue tulips of my grandma’s home,

This is not my home, my pursuit—where is my land?

Childhood drifted away as i melted into this plastic world,

I still smell you,

Pull me back to my land, my pursuit,

I no more dream of the tulips of your home, the tulips so blue.

By Shragvi Yadav