Ammi bared wrists of green glass bangles
Yanked gold earrings from reddened lobes
Slumped sideways like a burlap sack of rice
A wail tearing through courtyards and corners
Uncles, aunts arrived on scooters, rickshaws
Bosoms held Ammi ensconced in soft dupattas
All prayed kalimah on date and tamarind pits
Sliding the seeds between thumbs and fingers
Neighbors padded the floor with a dhurrie
Brought rotis and a pot of steaming saalan
Coaxed dunked morsels into Ammi’s mouth
Her stove remained cold, her kitchen still
Abu slept on a thick ice slab that wept and wept
I mopped and sponged, mopped and sponged
— Published in “All My Relations.”
