Your prayer room is cluttered, said my teenaged niece;
So I took her in and introduced her to these–
My household gods.
The two baby Krishnas- of brass and of bronze –
Belonged to my great grand-mom:
She’d had ten children and seen death snatch away six,
But remained ever patient and calm.
I’m sure my glass Siva is one of a kind;
(With Parvathi on his lap and Ganesh on hers)
My grandfather had it specially made
He was a connoisseur of music and art
Though his business was the clothing trade!
My mother-in-law’s Annapoorani, with ladle in hand,
Reminds me of her delectable fare–
Whoever dropped in , whenever they did,
Was fed with loving care.
The ivory Lakshmi , hands raised up to bless,
Rises from waves in the sea-
Calmly loving and serene- my mother’s last gift to me.
Of five noble metals is the Vishnu made-
He calls my polymath father to mind:
Scientist and Sanskrit scholar,
Erudite and refined.
In my niece’s face I saw the dawning glow
Of understanding- of the love that flows
To knit families together.
And prayer unlocks these inherited latent powers
Makes our heritage the springboard to a future -that’s ours!