Rukmani Amma

Rukmani Amma lives alone.

She drinks Boost every morning.

She walks to a point and then

commutes by shared auto to work.

She cleans the Theatre

fills water in the mud pitcher

and the plastic can. She brings tea

coffee, lemon juice for those who ask

and keeps track of everyone

urging us to eat, rest, work with care.

One morning, Rukmani Amma observed

that I usually wear earrings

but that day, being an auspicious Friday

I had worn neither earrings

nor a pottu. She looked more

displeased when I smiled.

I reassure Rukmani Amma

that my Amma will be happy with her

surveillance. And we laugh.

When it is time to leave

Rukmani Amma says I am her Amma

and she is my ponnu and I am her ponnu

and she is my Amma. We take photos

that I wonder where I will send her.  

Call me sometimes, she says.

I feed my number into her phone

and save it. The Tamarind tree

that flowers abundantly but stands alone

I’m that tree, says Rukmani Amma.