That cold night in Baroda
I put my hand under the blanket
where my little son slept
pulled his shirt up
placed my hand on his soft stomach
for warmth
That’s where the fire of life is
my mother said –
it is agni in the pot of life
the heat of metabolism, I thought
got around to using words such as these
heat instead of fire
thought of the fire in my stove
lamp in the temple
But I could not stop myself from this
I put my hand on her stomach
when she died
praying for the agni
to be still glowing
in the corner of the pot
(Agni, in Sanskrit, means fire)
Read Write Poem NaPoWriMo # 17
PAD Challenge – Poem on Death NaPoWriMo Day 17
My Garden 
Uma,
Your poem gave me chills. Wow! Superb!
Pamela
Another beautiful, tender poem, Uma.
uma, i am so delighted to read this piece. this line is spectacular: “That’s where the fire of life is/ my mother said” and i love how you bring that image back as part of the grieving.
Beautiful and memorable, Uma. Thanks for sharing!
A touching, well written poem. Well done, Uma.
fire of life yes… regardless of life or death.. dont you think?? we still are tho not… sirocco
Uma, a beautiful example of how your poem takes us to unexpected places. I really like how you always work cultural references into your poems.
Beautiful sentiments. I love how you start with your son and then end with your mom. Lovely.
Thanks for sharing these thoughts!
~Mark
Very lovely poem comes full circle.
Beautiful!
~Mark
Wow. That is beautiful and lyrical, and such a powerful image.
Stunning; very powerful, and just love how you brought this to a close in the last stanza!
Hi Uma:
This is a lovely poem! It’s quiet and profound.
Shari
I love how you place yourself here, the middle of three fires.