Best Poem of Vaidehi

My Mother's Sari
There, in the wooden box
my mother’s sari, enveloped in white muslin,
with mothballs.

Her sense of order is in each one
of its folds,
and the press of her palm.
A universe of ironing lies beneath the pillow.
Tiny packets of camphor, incense and
fragrant roots –
her perfume.

My mot . . .
Read the full of My Mother's Sari
She, He And Language
She said, hunger, thirst.
He said, eat well, drink.
She wept.
He smiled.

The other day he said, window,
not door as she’d imagined.
Wall, he said.
She thought it was space –
was it because all is revealed
when a wall breaks?

She prepared his favourite payasam
What he ate was . . .
Read the full of She, He And Language