a needle pulling thread

an ode to my Aji

Photo by Every Angle on Unsplash

along with the birds chirping outside
Aji’s hand-operated kalghar started
clanking early every morning converting
fabric into bhotos, suruwas, blouses

holding her family together
stitch by stitch when money bolted
from Bajya’s pockets on payday itself
into the hands of his gambler friends

an unlettered, untravelled woman
Aji was the rock that her progeny
climbed, spread their wings and
leapt on the back of the wind