Last Rites

Indian women consider themselves very lucky to die before their husband and so was my mother. At the funeral, the husband garlands her and does his duty of a husband. I can't describe this poem more

Ever since I was a child
I always dreamt of attending my parents wedding

Never thought I would one day
And that day would be so soon
My beautiful mother lying under the moon

Wearing the greenest of the green saree
With the brightest of the red bindi

I saw my weeping father garland you.
I froze I froze I froze.
To be calm and quiet I chose.

In the white clothes I stood.
One by one they kept the logs of wood.

I couldn't believe it was true.
To do the last rites my hand didn't move.
I felt this moment should just freeze
Came on my face the very cold breeze.

Yes I could see you my mother.
My love for you can never wither.

Being you first child
You were my favorite guide

We spoke of all the good times we had.
But never felt time had a different plan.
All the cries and sobs went in vain.
To see you burning my heart pained.
To see you in flames was my most dreadful dream
But these flames were a little different I seem.
All the good thoughts of you
All the positive energy of you
Was absorbed by every one of us.

And you moved to be a star without any fuss.
Wherever you are I know you see me and smile.
Your blessings I need to move
miles ahead.

Author's Note

Funeral of an Indian married woman is no less than a wedding.

Reviews

[Bhavya Maru]

Very well written. You have penned this saddest truth perfectly.

[Prynka]

Thank you Bhavya 🙏

[Bhavya Maru]

Never Mention Priyanka.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

thanks again for entry into my current competition, good luck this is truly beautiful yet sad thanks so much good luck

[Prynka]

Thanks you !

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Thank you for your beautiful poem it’s so heartfelt I felt your pain your love your grief thanks x

[Prynka]

Thank you Julie.

[barleygirl]

This is a deeply heartfelt message! I've always wondered about how it might be to experience a funeral pyre, which was just a phrase to me, until now! You brought this practice alive with amazingly honest & vivid imagery. You not only show what's going on outside, but also on the inside, as if we are the ones standing there, going thru this. I love the way you add so much extra information about your culture, so we can imagine things better, as we read along (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Prynka]

Thank you Margie.

[Donna]

That was beautifully written! I enjoy learning how other countries do things such as, every occasion is grand in India. That is very interesting to me. Thank you for sharing this!

[Prynka]

Thank you Donna.

[Deep]

While reading this poem, a fear comes, that same childhood fear- What if mother dies? Toughest emotions to pen down and you shows us glimpses of it, evokes the fear in us, prepare us to face the inevitable and it is the win as a poet. And I know how hard it is for you to go relive the same again. You wrote it wonderfully.

[Prynka]

Thank you Deep.

[Mishti]

So sad but so beautifully penned . Really touched..

[Prynka]

thank you Mishti.

[Nolo Segundo]

You write of a beautiful custom for the saddest of occasions-- I loved the line'' And you moved to be a star without any fuss'....

[Prynka]

Thank you Nolo. In India every occasion is grand birth to death. Then you for your time and kind words.