Dear Nana

In my mother’s eyes,
You’re still fifty-five.

She talks of you, to this day,
As a young man,
Bold, strong and unafraid.

You live in Maa’s 7 A.M. walks,
The way she laughs,
The beat of her heart.
The shape of her hands matches yours
As mine does hers
A reminder,
A gift, a curse.

I think Maa sees you in me sometimes,
Believes your soul somehow returned through mine-
That me coming into this world
Meant you did not leave her too soon.
I’m afraid I fail her far too often,
Grieve her twice with what I do-
Not only as her daughter,
But by failing to be you.

Nana, your life was my bedtime stories
A fictional character on adventures, to me.
You’re still fifty-five
Always will be
Frozen in time

Nana, I don’t know you at all
And you know me even less
But somehow everyone says
You would’ve loved me
But after all, they can only guess.

You’re only pixels in pictures,
Only electric signals in brains,
No rushing blood,
No warm hugs,
Only DNA.

Nana, a man I’ve never met,
Yet, without you, I wouldn’t be here.
I somehow have a million things
I wish this stranger could hear.

I’m sorry that I could never be like you
I give up too fast
But what if our timelines had collided?
Would you have taught me patience?
In that life, perhaps
I would still be
A skater,
A dancer,
An artist,
Or maybe all three.

Would you have taught me to ride a bike?
Or to make your favourite barfi?
Maybe then I’d be more like you
Because I would’ve known how to be.

Would you have loved me, Nana?
You would have, I suppose, just as everyone says.
But would you have liked me, Nana?
Even if I was just this way?

Nana, I hear your stories less and less now
I do not know if
It’s because Maa has run out of them,
Told me every anecdote she has of you;
Or if
She is starting to forget you, too.