Iron Flower
Updated: Sep 29, 2020
By Samyuktha Reddy
Her wispy white hair slept like the snow capped mountains
strong and resilient.Â
She didn't use any colour,
but embraced it wholeÂ
like a bird so brilliantÂ
with silver feathers
flying under the spring weather.Â
Though she could barely walk
in her soft lavender saree.
It didn't stop her feetÂ
from climbing two flights of stairsÂ
to prepare rice and curd for me,
and no matter how hard i tried
to replicate this simple recipe,Â
the taste of her love dancing on my tongue
was always missed by me.
She fed me, even at ten
in her soft lavender saree.
The rivalry of height
when i was a kid, up to her waist and to her shoulder
overshot like a bamboo, years later
I had to look down to her.
Years of length that i had missed,Â
to see her eye to eye in this abyss-
more important things were on my mind
than being swallowed by her golden yellow iris and her magic,
they were not so important i find,
than to hold her, a little longer every timeÂ
in her soft lavender saree. Â
She fell today you see,
she fell today and the earth did not stand still for me,
but it moved faster with a million thoughts stirring in me
the ground shaking, my knees wobbling,
her dewlapped skin hanging heavyÂ
weary from toiled years and caring for many,
under her neck, pouncing from elbows
is all that I could see.
And her soft lavender saree.
When they said she fell,
I didn't see her fall to the floor,
I saw her fall into my armsÂ
after a long day of school; where we infact fell into each other's arms.
I didn't see the red on her head as bloodÂ
but the same kunkun on my forehead.
Unreal to imagine that someone so strong and bold
would bleed anything but love and sunshine gold,
that's why love is red I guess.
Call me colourblind, but i can see that red
through her soft lavender saree.
She never told me she loved me.
She never told me she loved me but i heard it clearly,
I heard those words with the pooja bell’ sweet ringingÂ
before my exam as she prayed for me,
I heard ‘I love you’ when she dabbed the red kunkun
onto my foreheadÂ
and kissed my mind,
when she let me play with her dewlapped skin as a child,
I tasted her love with every morsel of rice
When the sound of my laughter joined into hersÂ
And i buried my runny nose in her pallu, mild baby powder I sniffed
in her soft lavender saree.
I felt it when her frail body was against my chest;
Hearing her breathing,
Heartbeat quickening,
as she sighed behind my neck-
the sweet scent of love, also hints of evening’s chai.
She didn't have to use her tongue to tell me what herÂ
actions screamed so clearly
through her soft lavender saree.
Sometimes I wonder,
was it that hard?
That difficult to learn another language?
To tell her, in the beauty of telugu, how much she meant to me?
Language was never a barrier for our love
and she was never embarrassed by her granddaughter's broken mother tongue,
but now I try to absorb like a sponge
and dress myselfÂ
in her soft lavender saree.
So hug them.
Like I hug her now without missing a beat,
Hug them more and more everyday
When the sun rises and sets with the moon,
When the tide rises and sets with the flowers,
Hug them tighter, like vines clinging onto stems
Hug them closer.
Drown them in your love
Hold them harder and
Love them harder.
Note from writer: I would like to clarify that my grandmother is alive, and feeling better now.
