“This is insanity”, I shout at her rigid, receding back
her eighteen year old spine
has as much steel as did mine at her age
I curse under my breath
memories of distant past flood my troubled mind

It still lies in the dusty corner cabinet
beneath the silken, floral duvets
hidden and buried deep
but unforgotten
a piece of my past that I cannot erase

ever the rebel, in a fit of anger
to spite my mom
I had coloured my hair fuchsia pink
that one act of madness, of defiant delirium
a show of my cussedness
drove a wedge wide and gaping between us forever

The frostiness of our relationship
has not thawed with time
“Harlot” she had called me then
splintering an already tottering bond
forgiving and forgetting had gone past repair

I don’t want history to repeat itself
nor be the mother my mother was
with resigned footsteps and a forced smile
ruing my own foolhardiness
I make my way to her room.





75 thoughts on “History

  1. Haha! Sad but has the ring of truth! I remember the first time I heard my mother’s voice issuing from my own mouth! It is always wise to pick your battles…. This poem reads so smoothly – like water flowing in a predetermined course…

    Liked by 4 people

  2. A very beautiful and powerful poem. It’s striking in how the narrator realizes the mistakes their parents made and how they don’t want to repeat that history with their own children. So many struggle in wanting to not become like their parents, but the greatest change is recognizing that and how things don’t have to be the same. Beautifully, beautifully said. πŸ‘πŸ‘πŸ‘

    Liked by 4 people

  3. I love the line “I shout at her rigid, receding back
    her eighteen year old spine”. This one line says so much! Then the realization as a parent, history repeating itself, and if we don’t want that, thenwe need to listen and choose to focus on what really matters. Well done!

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Nope, luckily. We don’t have such big rivers here. When you hear sth like that, it’s usually close to the Atlantic or the Danube or Rhine where it’s all flat.
        Poor people. And this sad planet of ours. It’s telling us things, which se keep ignoring.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. This is awesomely good, Punam.

    between us forever

    Forever? Really? Just because you dyed your hair once? … that seems… well… like it’s not the biggest deal in the world to me.


    Liked by 2 people

    1. Lol David! Not my story. I don’t think different coloured dyes were available when I was a teenager. While in school a friend had chopped off her long tresses and her mom never forgave her for that!
      I was an exasperating rebel…questioning everything. πŸ˜€
      My mom and daughter are sweethearts.
      Thanks so much. ❀️


  5. A beautiful poem. Generation gaps exist at all times. Every generation feels, they didn’t give their parents a hard time, till they become parents. Your thoughts on reconciliation is the way to go, Poonam. Loved it.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Many girls have to face this. I guess once is enough for the mother as the society does not accepts deviations. Poor humans bounded by rules when there are none.
    Love you writing as always (heart)

    Liked by 3 people

  7. I think the thread of comments says it all, Punam. Brilliant piece with so much resonance for so many. The worst insult in my house is ‘you sound like your mother!’ – sad but true.

    Liked by 2 people

  8. age old mother daughter relationship struggles, I am inclined to think the mother had mistakes of her own that are still unresolved with her own mother. I so relate with your poem Punam, as all daughters and or mothers will too. Trivial matters tied up in delicate matters of the heart. Another brilliant piece of work from you.

    Liked by 2 people

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