I look at the moon
and see my grandma, my dear amma…
I see its craters fill with her laugh,
its beautiful creases deepening with each laugh that rises from her chest,
her eyes, they too crease in laughter,
and fill with the warm, supple glow of the moon…
I think back to the days
she’d make nimbu paani
on hot summer days
when I came running home from school…
of the moments, we’d spend sitting on top of the dining table,
our legs swinging by the edge,
an icypole in our hands,
and our mouth savouring each bite
only made sweeter as the sweat dripped from her forehead…
To cool down, we'd stroll down the street court
With our faces bare to the summer night's breeze,
as we gazed up at the sky,
at the great expanse,
and our place within it,
a humble speck in the infinity of the cosmos…
It was my amma who taught me,
that whilst we may just be a moment
in the grandest stretch of time,
we must stay true to our values,
for what are we
if not the choices we make in each moment…
my amma would say,
“always act in accordance with truth,
don’t worry if others misunderstand,
let the world react!
but Anmol, always stay true to your values, to your dharma”...
often times we spent the evening with amma reciting a poem
and us playfully taking turns to fill in each other's lines,
“laugh always
and in turn, always help others laugh,
for it is no small thing to laugh!
yet keep in mind to laugh at another’s flaws
is to get caught in the web of sin -
laughing into motion, the buds bloom into flowers,
you too, should bloom with laughter
and melt the hearts of those around you”…
my amma sang these poems
while recounting stories of how good triumphs evil,
reminding me to keep my heart pure,
as she kissed my forehead
and tucked me in
and turned off the lights…
she would wake early just to do my hair,
and if I too woke earlier than school,
she would delight me with a sunrise walk
through the streets filled with flowers…
one by one she showed me the care
in each flower,
its fragrance and its beauty,
she showed me that if I must pick them,
pick them gently and with love
to offer before the feet of God,
and pray with a pure heart
for the wellbeing of others…
now across the globe,
my amma waits by the phone every moment of the day…
if I don’t call for a week,
she picks up at the first ring
and within a heartbeat I see tears well in her eyes as she sees my face,
her face creasing into that beautiful smile I love so much,
I say “amma, I miss you.”
and I hear her soft voice trying to rebuke me,
“you just say you miss me but never call”,
I laugh and tell her how she was in my dream…
the seconds that follow are some of the sweetest
I swear to God,
her face lights up with the familiar innocence of the moon’s laugh,
even the way she tells me off is sweet,
for there is so much affection hidden in it..
“amma, you look like the moon” I say,
“give it a rest” she laughs,
“you talk such sweet things but never call”,
and I promise I’ll call more
and I never do,
and in those moments of in between,
my heart travels back to the person
it cherishes so much..
my heart soars to the moon
and it laughs in the innocence of my amma.
Anmol Atreya is a Melbourne based poet. To read her poetry, you can subscribe to her substack, where she posts a new poem every Wednesday.
