SEE YOU NEXT BIRTH?

you were my childhood

that escaped into mosquito nets

with fireflies in matchboxes

you were little teapots and pans

little make believe world of dolls and doll weddings -

my sons getting married to your daughters

your palanquins making way to my house

mothers were fascinations, were they not?

they wore saris, those very long pieces of clothes

that we draped just like them

over our frocks

beetroot lipsticks and rouge

mamma's high heels and her handbag to match

her high pitched voice borrowed as we mimicked

'shall we go to the market?'

yes! the onions are so costly!

dance steps practiced diligently

frocks flying, hair flying...

our lives flew too

we were teenagers then 

we discussed boys

your mother taught you to cook

mine, to part ways

from you

to lead my life

while you led yours

women now

we lived knowing

childhood was a different birth

the now, the woman, is the one who lives

the one who births

the one who puts herself last on the list

the one who lives unquestioning...

i wonder now

did i even question that i may never see you again?

did i want to see you again?

did you want to see me again?

or did we bid goodbye

thinking

see you next birth?