Shared nook

As I cross forty

 I stealthily grow into my mother’s body.

I wear her saree, her grey hair,

her osteo-arthritic knee.

We have supported different political parties,

lusted for different types of men,

I the mellowed one, 

whose softness she often rebukes,

she the sterner stuff, a stronger one

who wipes away tear drops in secret.

Her Ramakrishna and my Buddha 

nestled together among our cup of coffees.

I share her dreams, blood group and

those ugly patches of varicose vein.

Her rebel mind to exist 

without her husband’s last name

percolated in my extra marital relation,

my horoscope of uncombed desires

her insomnia...There’s much more that connect us.

 she will never need me as I need her.

And this unequal sharing 

indeed is Comforting!