Dadi

Dadi Sitting on the doorstep, She looks at me with her loving eyes. So weary, I ponder, They seem to be holding so many mysteries. They abound with untold tales, I wonder. I vow to myself; these stories, I shall hear someday, as she cajoles me to sleep. She shields me from Rani’s slaps, Every now and then. She now snaps at me in a language; melodious song it seems at first. But quickly it reaches a crescendo of all too familiar words which my ears were accustomed to. Coming from the magnate of our family, the revered one; who toils from 7 to 7 and can hardly stands a sound when he is back. I feel the two have made a pact of some sort; Otherwise why would they use the same disgruntled mellifluous words, When they were cross. Bemused I go on with the task at hand Oiling the silver-haired roly-poly Dadi’s threads. Yearning for another round of discordant bitterly words, Strange why I found them amusingly endearing. Cheekily I pulled her hair harder this time With clumps of it ending on my sweaty palms. Here they come the shower of the much-anticipated jingling jingling words.