Three Mothers and the Table

Four seats on a train
and a table between them

Seated on one side—
a woman with a tilak
and her son
with his toy car

Facing them
two women wearing hijab—
one with her son,
the other
an expectant mother

The pregnant woman
enjoys a playful moment
with the boy and his car—
teasing him,
tickling his arms
across the table—
her motherly essence
radiating out

They play
hide and seek—
the boy slipping
under the table

Absolute strangers—
sure they are,
yet they don't feel
unknown

Through the journey,
the two boys befriend each other—
rolling the toy car
on the table—
their mothers
calmly tolerate
the mischief

As the train speeds through
fertile lands on each side,
the expectant mother
slips into a calm nap

The other woman with hijab
lets her son recite a prayer
before his meal
on the table

When her son wants to
take a nap,
she rises up from her seat
takes out her old bra
from the baggage overhead
and lets him clutch it—
his comforter

Three mothers
and the table—
a five-hour journey
shared with me—
the traveller,
the beholder

The pregnant woman
is the first to leave the table—
her belly low and wide

Maybe it's a girl