SEEKING AMMA

Each year this day,
with the twilight sun
melting into moonlit darkness
he used to come
to the village
in cognito.
Standing rooted here
with folded palms
across his chest
his eyes ran past
the paddy fields
and adjacent rivulet
with glow-worms roaming
he
in search of an old woman
in full white
her hairs too silvery white
sitting astride
at the verandah
of her house
in the light of sacred lamp
her palms also folded
across her chest
eyes half-closed
holy-ash pasted on
her forehead
praying to God.
He would whisper
‘Amma, your son -
the sinner has come again
to bow down before you.
With tears in eyes,
he would go back
in cognito
through the crowds
in the temple
unmindful of bells chanting
drum beating
and prayers in the lips
of hundreds.
One year
as usual
he came in cognito
at the moment
with the twilight sun
melting
in to the moonlit darkness
eyes running past
the paddy fields
the rivulet
the roaming glow-worms
saw nobody in the verandah
that full white
skeletal structure
flowing snow-white hairs
no sign of her
no sign of the sacred lamp
with
tears in his eyes
he returned
not to come back again.