The Sillage Of A Saree Poem by Namita Rani Panda

From a rusty dusty trunk while rummaging the storeroom
I found amidst old clothes a neatly folded saree of my mom
More than five decades old and was fondly worn long
That filled the air with the sillage of her perfume
Flashed back my memory like a classic film
That I lovingly cherish and relive in my dream

With a sky-blue body and dark blue border
The aanchal woven with much care, unique and rare
Intricate patterns of fish, leaves and lovely flowers
Not merely a piece of cloth, though lost her early our secure shelter

I ran my fingers lovingly on the finely woven fabric:
As if the song of my life, each thread being a lyric
I held it tight to my heart and felt the rhythm of her heartbeat
The sudden spillage of her warmth was so solacing and sweet
The aromatic air around whispered my childhood lullabies
I drape myself in the sacred six-yard saree to replicate her grace
A heavenly bliss, as if engulfed in her tender embrace
The sillage that refused to vanish though temporarily filled the emptiness
Intensified the anguish of losing someone dear whom I forever miss