My Mom’s Midas Touch

I roll out another chapati 
Make one more futile attempt to fluff it up 
Something to do with my mom’s philosophy 
She loves to link your hunger, directly to her chapatis’ puff.

How do you do it, mom? 
Like every single time! 
Teach me also some of your voodoo doo 
I too want my kids to say, “meri maa ke haathon mein hai jadoo!”

Oft’ times I wonder
What’s the secret behind your Midas touch 
Does it come naturally to you 
Or did you cultivate it over the years

How do you make it look so simple 
While I struggle with it so hard 
A working mom, you’d tirelessly work all-day 
A home-maker, I still fall short

I remember dad often bringing home 
A sack of wheat, sometimes even two 
Twenty-five to fifty kgs of cleaning, tempering, conditioning 
Before dad carried it for grinding, all deftly done by you!

Squashes, Jam, Masalas, Pickles 
All lovingly prepared at home by you 
It’s only when I grew up, I realized 
One can purchase them from the market too

Waking up at four, leaving by six 
Not even a Sunday to yourself 
Weekdays and weekends — all were the same 
Working from morn’ till night, not a moment to rest

Retired and at seventy-four, still working non-stop
Gracefully carrying on with endless duties
Work for you has never been a chore
Is that the secret, Mom
To your Midas touch?
The reason every chapati of yours
Swirl and dance and puffs up 
But to achieve the same
Each time, I still have to strive hard!

July 13, 2020