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Photo
He looked at her again and again
Filled with tears and despair
Yet his eyes glimmered with love
He was scared that a tear might fall
He looked down, holding them back
Caressing her through the picture
A crinkled, dry photo in his hands
It was black and white
Still it seemed colourful
It was a photo of two people
Looking at each other
Holding books in their hands
They seemed young but lovers
Wearing sunglasses
Smiling at each other
The lady whom he secretly admired
And a man she truly loved
They were real love birds
Spent fifty-two years together
But one bird flew away, to heaven,
While other still sits alone, waiting
Nani
She had Dyed black hair mixed with some white hair
A red bindi on her forehead placed symmetrically
She used to drape a sari with a lot of patterns on it
She was my nani, my grandmother, my friend
My nani used to make the best achaar that I ever had
My palate still has that tangy flavour of her achaar
Afterall it was mixed with love and selflessness of hers
I have bitter-sweet memories of her, mostly sweet
We both used to dance to old retro hindi songs
She was always ready to do an impromptu for me
Nani used to tell me ghost stories of her village
Some of them sounded fake but she said they weren’t
Nani left me sooner than anticipated
She might be in heaven taking care of the angels
But she had left a lot of memories for me to cherish
Her bindi, achaar, saari and her laughter
Still Has
Home is not the same without you, but I still can’t call it a house
Because, the walls are still scented with you
The stairs are painted with the mark of your footsteps
The glass is stained with your Bindi gum marks
The cupboards smell the same way your sarees did
The room is filled with the echo of your laughter
The bedroom still has the smell of your medicines
The kitchen still has the aroma of your achaar
Nothing of yours left us, but you did grandma