My tired, proud mother

It seems that you and I have my mother wrapped,

 in a suitcase like an airbed.

Whenever we want, we blow the colorful air in it.

Color, based on our desire;

Blowing as a transparent balloon ,

the color is the only reflection.

Some say their color is her real color,

Others say their color is her real color.

Quite exhausted between the fights,

she is panting, perspiring

… talks rarely.

But commendable are her facial expressions

Feelings are easily visible to her daughters and sons

To me, she seems tired and sad….

Told her convincingly that there is no reason to be sad,

but many reasons to be proud.

Narrated to her with pride:

“In a foreign country,  addressing myself as ‘Indian’… 

…I don’t know though labelled as third world countrymen in the global media, I always have the hint of pride in my utterance when I say ‘INDIAN’

I doubled my effort to convince her..I said

“Look, I am so happy 

 Born in your lap

Able to become one with the world”

……..

After a pause, I told her,

“ You know

World is appreciating

                                           Our innovations and growth

It is acknowledging

                                       Our intellect and wisdom

It is revering

                         Our culture and tradition

So what makes your face fade?”

I asked her thousand times

felt like crying

as she seemed eternally sad

So, I request my siblings to ask our proud mother  

what makes her face fade…

and why is she sad???

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