A heartfelt tribute to a mother and the quintessential essence of her presence, depicted by her daughter.

And that vermilion spot
On her forehead
Makes her look so alive and
Bright
The red dot
Between the two wavy eye brows
Places a calm to her face.
And that vermilion spot
On her forehead
Makes her look so alive and
Bright
As it does to every woman.
But why? no one knows
Nor do I.
Even her gold ear-rings lack
That fire
Which can subdue
All her passions,
Her belongings,
under the pressure
of its Traditional glory.
Though she doesn’t know
But from the day
I was born
I became used to
This brightness in her.
It’s just like
A Ruby stone
she garbs everyday
Without which she seems
So incomplete.
It is the Sun
When arises beneath the sea
But after Sunset
As we know
That it is still there.
Because it should be there
For our daily pujas
For our living.
Thus,
The red light becomes
Inseparable with her
Very existence
And with me
Also.
Read other poems about mother
The Touch of a Mother
Ripped
Saudade
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