Freshly cleaned puja lamps,Whiff of burning ghee,
Champas and jasmines
filling the basket
as she sits,
her tresses adorned
with the saree pallu;
For puja
in a world she thinks
is godly celestial.
A ear tuned to the cry
of a little one
searching for his mother...
She pauses mid puja
as she sees him crawl in
and break
into a toothless smile;
Into her lap,
with a cry
climbs her Krishna,
Her other hand,
holds the aarti.
Praising Him,
soundlessly,
amidst his gurgles,
for this real Puja
Of her life.....
