kayyar

as i play

in the arms

of mother..

i hear

someone..

sing..

mother is

now whispering

to my

grandma..

oh amma..

what should

we give

the worker

in return..

..

..

the yield

from the land

has not yet

come..

..

..

what we have

may just

be sufficient..

to last us

this

one season..

at present

o dear..

i can

hear..

father calling

out

to mother..

she answers

the call..

carrying

me

with her..

..

as we enter

the door

i hear

father..

ask mother..

dear..

if you

are okay

with it..

i would like

to send

all the bags

of rice

back

with him..

i look

at

my mother

she is

staring

in surprise..

i cant

make out

the expression

in her

dark eyes

as i

wonder..

i hear

father continue..

he worked

the land..

didn’t he

..?

so the yield

belongs..

to him

doesn’t it

..?

i can see

my mother

nod

strangely..

for once

my parents

are in

agreement..

what abundance

could not achieve..

this moment

has somehow

sealed..

what will

the child

have

..?

my mother

manages

to ask

..

indicating me

of course..

i hear

in surprise

my father’s

voice..

whatever..

..

fate

has kept

for us..

..

..

saying thus..

he disappears

toward

the store..

with

last seasons’

bags

of rice