Over the years I had seen my 'nani' diminishing in size
she had truly become nani (puny in Gujarati)
while she took her last few breaths
my mother and i placed our hands in hers
I felt the texture of the rough lifelines etched onto the old palms
the only visible line (as per palmistry) stood for a strong independant character
I looked at the vanishing line once again and
realised that this pulsating line would live through my mother and further down through me
I looked at nani in admiration and I was thankful to God for having united us
and we knew we would keep her spirit alive
the pyramid of three hands to me,
represented three generations of gritty women- and many more to come....
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