An Abecedarian to Mother’s Tongue by Meher Manda

(ఆ)fter my birth, there was a lull, but long
(బి)fore, there was music in the family, in the
(క్)alling of life through the familiar
(డ్)ampness of a mother’s blood offering.
(ఏ)mpty of its conjuring, her womb would
(ఫ)old over itself with one purpose, to
(గ్)oad the tongue of her child, to pour into
(హ్)er a language of love, hymn and displeasure, so
(ఇ)nside the home, the mother cooed soft melody to
(జో)olt awake in her daughter a memory, the
(క్రి)rystallised offering of elders who
(ల)ong to be preserved in the droll of a
(మ్)yriad tongues. All day, mother sings, and all
(న)ight, she holds the baby to her breast,
(ఓ)rdering her heartbeat to do her bidding.
(ప్)erhaps, I should have taken what was being given
(క్వా)uiet as I was then, uncorrupted and
(ర్)aw, without malice to reject a most
(స్)olemn offering. But I grew a pitiable beast, my
(ట్)ongue embracing an alien sound’s alms,
(అ)ntil now. Now, I scamper with thirst,
(వె)agrant, for a home that can cradle my accent and
(వి)ill love into it, so I too can be the
(జే)enic of a family that once shared music.
(య్)ou understand what this means—to be threadbare,
(జే)apped of all history, and a colonized landmark—don’t you?

Meher Manda is a poet, short story writer, journalist, and educator from Mumbai currently based in America. She earned her MFA from the College of New Rochelle where she founded The Canopy Review. She co-curates An Angry Reading Series in Harlem, and is the author of the chapbook Busted Models.