Letter from the Nursing Home

 
Ma, how are you?
It's been so long since I've seen you.
Drifting on life's raft, clutching at drowning straws,
leaving you behind, not seeing any of you...today I'm stuck here
on the fourth floor of some corner in this city wrapped in curfew packets.

Ma, you must have seen it on TV,
today the whole world lies helpless beneath COVID-nineteen's jaws.
Thousands of lives vanish in this killer's grip...all day, all night.
Death's shadow swallows the city's bone marrow, the village's soft doll-bodies.
That bloodsucker's ravenous hunger won't stop—more lives, more...!

Today, at every step, mourning wails.
The death procession grows longer by the hour.
The world's spine is slowly bending.
Ma, what if I too fall under terror's claws?
What if I too have to join that procession?
What if we never see each other again, Ma?
What if I die without seeing you one last time?

You know Ma, thinking I'd give it to you when I came home,
I bought a blue-bordered jamdani sari...
saving up from my tutoring money.
For Moni, her favorite red and sky-blue
dozen glass bangles I bought.
Last time, returning from home,
blocking my path from your sight,
wrapping me in her tiny hands,
holding back all the world's desires in her enchanted eyes,
smiling with one cheek...the crazy girl asked only for a dozen bangles.
Will I get the chance to put these bangles on her, Ma?

In this expensive city's lanes and alleys, in every pore...
death's unannounced warrant has been issued today.
At any moment death can come...grab by the neck and drag away
anyone at all! What if I'm among them too,...Ma?

Ma, these days your son has changed so much, he's learned to be afraid!
I'm afraid—afraid of losing you.
Afraid of not being able to deliver the blue sari.
Afraid of losing my little sister.
Afraid of not being able to put on those bangles.

Ma, keep an eye on Moni. The pickle jar—let her hold it sometimes.
When the parrot learns to fly, let it fly.
When weeds grow on the pond-side trees, cut them down.
In front of the house...in my garden, find time to water it a little.

If I can't return alive,
if I have to go to Baba's side,
don't come near my corpse, Ma.
Will you keep this request?
I've told them,
if I die, let them bury my body here somewhere nameless.
I told them I have no one, I'm an orphan.

Ma, if I can return alive,
holding you tight...I'll cry out loud for a long time.
I haven't cried in so long, Ma...

Ma, all of you stay careful, stay well.
Yours, Rafi—trapped in a nursing home bed.