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The morning rays fall on her shiny silvery hair,
As she knits them, into a nice long chain,
She starts her prayer as she chants all the mantras,
The 108 names of Lord Vishnu,

She has seen and lived through a very vivid picture,
Raised three children and been there always,
She saw them grow from children to adults, saw their families develop,
The husband she had a gynaecologist at his best,

In the later years, she could hardly walk,
Let me take you through the talk,
All of this flashes through her mind in a jiffy,
When she is at her son’s house

Resting on his bed, telling him some last words of how it was,
How the father gave all his life at work and she at home,

Suddenly it starts, the moment he realizes the son, a doctor himself drags her down by her feet,
As they scream for help, as we the grandchildren run to her rescue,

The son is aware she is going through an infarction, trying to absolve the reflection, reaction on his face blank,
He starts pumping the heart, as we frantically rub her intensely cold feet and hands,
They wanting to go numb, but we still tried as she was our grandma,
I watch her gasp for breath as she is given her last breaths by her son,

Whom she gave the first breaths of life,
a plight where the son has to live through seeing his mother go by,
I see the spirit almost move out of her body,
As he lifts her and takes her to the ambulance,

They reach the hospital and she’s no more,
A mother, grandmother, an aunt, a sister, and to many, a great woman,
Goes away only leaving her words and books,
An age she gave us was golden and she will always be remembered,
Her spirit revolves around us all over always…

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