Author: Sruthi Abraham

It’s easier to act strong when you are weak
But mon dieu, acting weak when you can lift the mountains,
Shift them to the deepest valley sides,
And flatten the ground, without a sound
Muffle the noises none other than your own
It’s harder ,believe me, I’ve tried but failed,
But I know my Amma, so I know, believe me.
Everyday not even a whimper,
Yet the flames of her stove scream
What she earns to be but now, could never be
Her dreams, her childhood, all gone,
Gone with the distant happy memories
Of her careless mere age.
At the age of 18, lifting the family on her shoulders,
She’s yet to place it down, it’s weighing her down,
She’ll never accept that fact, why?
She’s told it’s what she is supposed to do,
But who? But who? The society remains silent
But not the steel tumblers, that rattle,
As my Amma washes them with tears.