FAREWELLS

Farewells
by A. K. RAMANUJAN (1929-1993)

There are farewells
with formulae
farewells
without.

At the railway
station, standing
at the window of your friend,
the train delayed
for two hours
and then again for another two,
you can neither go home
nor stop talking over and again
about the delay, the old days
when banana sellers were not rude
and tea was really from Darjeeling.

Also that recurring farewell
to the lady president
of the cooperative society
when they present her
with a silver medal
but don't have the time
to inscribe
her name.

So they take it back to get it
properly inscribed.
Now the secretary ducks
under his umbrella
and turns into the garbage alley
whenever he sees the lady
in the road
as he cannot bear the thought
of the unfinished farewell,
the nameless medallion
lost in his office drawer.

Then there is the farewell
of the dying patriarch
among all his clan:
the youngest grandson
standing next to grandpa
with the peculiar smell,
two months without front teeth,
mother crying into her sari, father busy on the phone
trying to locate brothers
on trains that do not arrive
according to the time changes in April.

Mother's farewell had no words,
no tears, only a look
that moved on your body from top to toe
with the advice that you should
not forget your oil bath
every Tuesday
when you go to America.