TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF SU*CIDE
The old lady wears her spectacles each day,
Her floral kurtis seem to suit her well;
She sits on the porch in her old wooden chair,
Knits a cardigan for her lovely granddaughter,
She seems happy and without a care.
But today was like no other.
I can't see her following her daily routine,
She is still sitting on the porch in her old wooden chair,
But today she seems dejected.
Her half knitted cardigan is kept aside,
Her lovely granddaughter took her own life.
She was just 19, she says,
She still had so much to do.
I wish I could make her realise,
The world doesn't just have cruelty to offer.
I wish I could hold her in my arms forever,
But, my darling, it was too late to do so.
I converse with her with a crack in my voice,
"Please complete this cardigan still,
Don't let it go unfinished just like her story,
She wouldn't have wanted you to give up either,
Do this for her, can you please?"
Maybe in a few decades,
A small little girl will find it,
In the shackles of this world,
Just to find comfort and warmth in a piece of clothing,
Knitted about a few decades ago,
When life wasn't familiar to her,
When she was still in a safe space,
Made by a loving grandmother who was grieving,
Grieving the loss of her own little girl.
And so,
The old lady wore her spectacles each day,
Her floral kurtis seemed to suit her well;
She sat on the porch in her old wooden chair,
Knitted a cardigan for her lovely granddaughter,
She seemed happy and without a care.
-Jaisal Arora
Instagram ID: @jarora257
