Appa, I am your photocopy
I screamed my heart out, as there was only 10 seconds left. In those deaf ears I screamed I am proud being your daughter, and by then your eyes were half closed and you just waited for us to close it full.
Appa, I have so many letters unsent and un delivered.
Growing up did I forget to acknowledge, or was it my precariousness.
It's you, who taught me to fight the superstitious beliefs, to be on my own and Be proud of being a Girl/Woman and also that, respecting My Body comes first.
I wanted to cry Appa Appa, but seeing Amma and Anna, I held my tears. And held it for 10 days, the heaviness of the lump grew in quantity,
I didn't want to accept that you moved on. Is it you, moving away or my guilt growing like a mountain. I am still figuring this out only to hide it in my writings. Yes, this reality you taught me about writing in a Diary as I was wandering in the illusions alone, but for you I wouldn't be writing the reality.
Remember those cycle rides, munching those yummy toffees. I miss them terribly today, also you always asking me to sing a song.
And I sang like a fool, when you were dying. All were staring at me, and I didn't bother because you taught me about the Acceptance and that Acceptance to send you off to meet your parents.
Appa, tell them, Meera is your reflection and your photocopy.
That photocopy who is singing her heart and writing her melody…
She is your legacy .
Are you listening, I
" am sure now at least you can hear."
Your hearing machine, still has your drums, which echoes stillness..
The stillness of our memory page.
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