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???