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Metamorphosis of Familiar Faces-9

by Gayathri Dutt
(Bangalore, India)

Metamorphosis of familiar faces
Series 9 — Lakshmi

She entered this planet
a pretty little lass,
and was embraced by
grandparents’
Her siblings amazed
as this versatile
became part of their world.
School opened another door.
Academic excellence came naturally,
the rapport with teachers
helped her bloom—
into the many facets of who she was.
And then came friends—
many of them,
from different places,
crossing boundaries of distance and time.
They were drawn to her energy,
her emphatic way of being,
and some remained connected
until the very end.
Life brought her a soulmate—
a rationalist,
a mind that met hers
in its own distinctive way.
Their marriage was not merely a joining of two lives;
it became a meeting of minds and hearts,
each shaping the wavelength
on which the other lived.
Two children followed,
hale and healthy,
and with them came another inheritance—
the quiet legacy of learning.
What had lived in her
passed, almost incognito,
into the next generation,
and then into the grandchildren,
where it returned to her
as pure delight.
Her children eventually travelled overseas,
building lives and careers far away.
Distance became part of the family’s geography,
and settlement abroad brought with it
a new rhythm—
periodic journeys,
return visits,
and the gentle obligation
of bringing parents along
into the wider world.
Perhaps that was when
the traveller in her truly awakened.
She began to move through the world
framing new memories
with friends and family beside her.
Music and movies
became part of her landscape.
There was always
another song to hear,
another film to watch,
another conversation to have,
another place to see.
Even when minor ailments
began to make themselves known,
her perception of life did not diminish.
She gathered her friends around her,
arranged meetings,
kept the circle alive.
She shared what she had—
her affection, her concern,
her instinct for philanthropy—
and captured the sweetness of those moments
in photographs that seemed to say:
This is life.
Look at it.
Keep it.
And perhaps that is what remains.
But the woman who kept moving—
through childhood and classrooms,
friendships and marriage,
motherhood and migration,
music and cinema,
travel and laughter—
leaving little pieces of herself
in the people she touched.
Until, one day,
without warning,
the body chose its own silence.
And then came
the sudden, unexpected exit—
leaving behind
a life that had travelled far,
a circle that had loved deeply,
and photographs filled with colour,
as though Lakshmi
had simply stepped out of the frame,
and left the rest of us
to keep looking.