I can remember:
No, not one of us
wore white.
Side by side, mama did wear white –
When daddy died.
Unmistakably, mama’s body dissolved
In undying sorrow –
Breathing in her own gloom.

 

When mama died,
I didn’t wear white.
A God who sent me grief,
Dwelt upon its invincibility as one
With no colours.
I understand the commandment –
Withdrawing from all colours:
When mama died.

 

 

Mumbai
2013

                          

Geeta Chhabra

 

From the book: Smash My Glass by Geeta Chhabra.