Manisha Bharadia is a third-year medical student at the University of Alberta.
If you watch me in the morning
You can see how my heart pulls
Myofibrils tensing and releasing
To the beat of my Bapuji’s tabla
If you watch me make my coffee
You can count how many teaspoons of cinnamon
Will be mixed in with the beans
My father’s secret recipe
The earthy, robust powder
Transports me into my Ba’s home
Where I sit down at the table for our afternoon chai
Wrist still cherry red from the
Ba effortlessly rolls the atta
into perfectly planned circles
While I clumsily
Hoping I haven’t pressed too hard as to dissuade
The perfect ballooning
Then Ba will sit at the table
Tell me of how her friends called her to visit
But she took the bus to pay her bill
How she started a new project
Knitting yet another afghan
Eiffel Towers this time she says with a smile
holding up her pastel green creation as proof
The trip was short today
I ponder as my empty mug stares back at me
The aroma of my home
Just an aftertaste on my tongue
Myofibrils tense and release again
This time to the tick of the hospital clock
Returning to my mechanistic day
More cinnamon this time
Writing poetry is a gift. Yes keep writing not once many times. Mind wonders letters words keep coming
Heartwarming moments to remember. So thoughtful of you to share.
Sweet of you to comment!
Don’t we have amazing poetry writing students!
Brought back memories of my mother..making chappattis!
She would also take the bus to city hall to pay her utility bills!!