It was our job
To carry it to the verandah
On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays-
the other days she would wet her hair
sprinkling few drops on her head so she could pray
Our first lesson that rules could be modified, if not broken
Those three days were different-
The hair wash, was an elaborate ritual
Beginning with the coconut oil bubbling over a fire in a brass pot,
Mixed with fenugreek seeds for thickness,
henna leaves for smoothness
and curry leaves for color
Then came the application; a ceremonial procedure in itself-
The hair parted into lanes and turns,
the warm elixir poured
and the pressure points pressed
‘So the parts inside remain cool like a well-oiled machine,’ she’d say
And we’d watch and learn.
An hour later came the shower –
a mix of amla*, bringhraj**, shikakai*** and liquorice
applied, instead of soap
Take care of it and you’ll never have to complain,’ she’d say
when we wondered why hers was black
and mom’s needed coloring
The orange chair
On which Ammuma* sat to dry her hair-
We inched it to the right and then to the left
Half in the sun and half in the shade
Until we heard her say, ‘It’s fine. Stop!’
From where she stood on the black marble porch
in a starched cotton drape
and a muslin towel tied at her nape
‘The perfect spot’ we called it
As we waited for her to descend
A concoction of fragrances-
henna, shikakhai, lifebuoy and ponds dream-flower*
There she’d sit in the dappled sunlight
Bathed in the rays overlooking the gates
and untie the muslin knot
Down they would tumble
her tresses, over the orange webbing
and the white metal arms, drops sparkling like diamonds on the chair
And from her perch, she’d warmly smile
at friends and visitors who crossed the gates
And acknowledge
the residents of the house as they left for the day
That included us when we went to school
A quarter jingling in our pockets for the good job done-
‘Our secret,’ she called it with a wink
On Saturdays, we got our turn
‘Our special treat,’ we called it-
to sit on the chair,
overlooking the gates
after Ammuma was done
The orange chair on which Ammuma sat
to dry her hair
now sits on the black marble ties looking forlorn
Part in the shade and part in the sun
A piece of our childhood, Ammuma
and the days of yore before we grew up.
I painted the below watercolor sometime ago and when one of my friends saw the painting she said it reminded her of her grandma. It was this statement that led me to writing this poem.
Vineetha Brijesh this poem is for you and for my girls who I know will be able to relate to it. Let me know if this poem brings back some childhood memory for you too.

*Ammuma- grandma
amla*, bringhraj**, shikakai*** and liquorice – herbal products for the hair
Copyright@smithavishwanathsblog.com. All Rights Reserved.
lovely poem smitha and the awesome painting to match too….you are really going places ….well done!!!
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Thank you so much Vanessa for the good words. I am so glad you enjoyed reading the poem and liked the painting too. Its good to hear from you again. 🙂
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Beautiful
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Thanks so much Jude🙂
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My pleasure Smitha
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That painting is beautiful! The poem truly takes me back in time as if you are painting the scene in words – it is sad that this kind of self care is an absolute luxury in today’s world. I can almost smell the shikakai that my mom used to boil 🙂
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Thank you for your very beautiful comment. Its so wonderful that the poem helped bring back memories with your mom. Reading your comment was satisfying.
Oh…these days it takes me about 5 minutes to take a shower😀.
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Yeah that was exactly my thought – 5 minute shower… 🙂
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Lol…this gen moms🙂…cheers to us
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Haha yes cheers!!
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When I saw the painting I thought of Van Gogh’s paintings of his room and chair – this painting is in similar colours and in it, the chair has the same sort of presence. I love the way you’ve captured the light across it too. The poem gives it added meaning – you’ve made a powerful story out of a memory.
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Wow! Thats huge Andrea. I actually did it based on a painting by James Gurney. But after you said Van Gogh, I checked and noticed the similarity. Thank you Andrea for the appreciation of the painting and the poem. It made my day.
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Your poem is excellent and the chair is so beautifully done, Smitha. Too good.
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Thank you so much Kamal for the good words. I’m smiling ear to ear❤
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You are always welcome dear Smitha ❤️❤️❤️❤️
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A lovely painting, Smitha, and a really meaningful poem.
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Thanks so much Robbie :). Its funny how the painting led to the creation of the poem. Am so glad you enjoyed both.
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