Amma

I remember crying


myself to sleep at night.



How much I wanted to dance.



Only to be turned down


by my mother's simple no



I remember getting ready


the next day in my favourite dress,


walking next to Amma



My pudgy hands


holding onto her frail fingers.





I still remember


the day when I walked into the dance


class holding on to her saree.



Terrified to let go.





I still remember


our daily walks to my dance-class,


the smell of starch


from her neatly tied cotton Saree



I didn't see the time pass.




Now,


At 80 she was first at all my dance recitals .


At 82 she looked like she was in her 60s.


At 84 no hail or storm could stop her


from attending my shows.


Then,


on the biggest day's of my life


An empty seat


Staring right at me



She wasnt there anymore.




At my Arangetram


I said goodbye to my dance.


Without her in the audience


I no longer wanted to  be on stage



I was 4 again


refusing to let go of her saree.