Apple Chutney

 

The tree hangs upside down

In the crescendoing night

Trying

to sleep

amongst the nightly squabble of the jhingur

 

The olive-green apples

ripe with sourness

trying hard to 

hold onto

the last semblance of home

till early morning, when

Nani will snatch them-

make sweet and sour chutney

for city-bred grandkids

A jaded cotton saree

floating above her bare ankles

And another, strangling her abdomen

 to stop the cold from seeping in.

By-Anubha M