Adventures With Dadi to Planets Unknown

Adventures With Dadi to Planets Unknown

My Dadi tried to give her whole

world to me. I suckled at her old

punctured breasts when mother 

was sick. She’d walk Belonia 

thousand times over if it meant a

chuckle out of my feeble teeth.

She’d fix the moon. She’d cover

the day into night with her white

drape and valleys would croak

with frogs, her ever bare feet

would crush mushroom heads,

summon Krishna with her chants

and make the sky cry a slumber.

We’d go past the emerald ponds,

past lands spilled with betel nuts,

past a Durga, past a Takkya Ali,

over the hump of a moon, past the

glowing snakes, through purple

mustard and bare fields. All this while

her body moving like a cradle. I, hung

in mid sleep — one eye shut, one

watching. We’re so far away from home,

in a different planet. But she walks

through a pale blue mist and I’d smell

the rice cakes, the thick date syrup

and the hum of my mother over a

red Gita and I’d know home was here

as if teleported through time. And I’d

run to mother bent in prayers to boo

at her and break her trance. I never

looked back. If I did, I’d see my Dadi

hiding her tears. She loved me so, she

loved me forever.


Sandip Baidya
Sandip Baidya

Sandip writes awe-inducing poetry, thought-provoking opinions, and riveting reviews on books and movies.

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