Motiya

a moment of peace outside
lying listless
on a bed of a hundred tiny grass blades
hearing the wind in the tall bamboos
looking at the red of the sun
that weirdly calming red
that you can only see with your eyes closed.

a Walls cart goes by, blasting that annoying song
then that familiar voice
through an old-school amplifier
“pressure cooker kay handle theek kerwa lo”

the wind blows soft and warm
across my face, in my hair
breathe in, breathe out;
breathe in, breathe out.

a few birds are singing now
and then again that familiar voice
through that old-school amplifier
“blender theek kerwa lo, silayi machine theek kerwa lo”

and just like that
i find myself thinking of a time long gone;
of amma.
of a raddi wala that she talked to for hours,
a sunlit room, her presence.

the motiyay kay phool on her bed,
beside her pillow,
adorning her ear lobes.

breath in;
and i can smell, so vividly
her motiyay kay phool
those jasminums are where i found my peace

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