My Mom and Molecules

My mom
Never thought of molecules or mitochrondria
Mostly stuck with her kids, cows and cats
While I look into the mouse brain with the computer
To find the genes that mess up our moods

Then in the evening I look at the moon
The lonely moon behind a dead tree branch
With amorous frogs pleading for love
And dream of Brundaban
Where Radha is dancing for the eternity
to the tune of the flute player.

The sweet and soft evening breeze
Caresses my face
Like my unknown lover’s touch
Memories stroll into me
About my mom,
My grandma
The conch’s sound of the evening
Welcoming the night life
Fireflies and frogs

There
I think of the life flowing underground
Stuffed with myriads of crosstalk, pathways, signals
Synthesis and apoptosis
To make us breath, smile and weep in silence
And crave for some one who can not there to start with

There I see the mighty mitochondria
The miserable maniac mouse
My long gone loving grandma
My far away getting old mom,
The wonderer me
And my lovely daughter Manisha
As tiny pallbearers of time
As the components of the conveyor belt for the selfish genes
Living and loving and losing to find again
The moments of our lives.