I realized asthi

meant 

roasted bones

when the ghee bottle

with you slipped

gathering motion  

when contained 

brittle glass

on the floor 

**

It was the fourth day

since —

and we forgot

your asthi

when we went

early morning

for rituals next

to a pond 

with no fish, 

plastic green —

when we turned back

to bring you,

I realized

it wasn’t so much

our forgetfulness

but our reticence

in letting you go,

we couldn’t have forgotten,

at least not just yet.  

**

Near that pond

as the priest chanted

for your safe passage

khura^* arranged 

your bones 

on a yellow cloth;

Yellow signifies

so many things

one of them

(I believe)

has to do with

new beginnings —

when haldi

pestle-smashed

bled onto you

like a new bride

I remembered how

only a few days back

you wore a white mekhela,

golden bordered

snow-powder, lipstick

on your brown face  

we rubbed 

ground lentil, haldi

before carrying you

in the back

of the car —

collected, ready

you slept  

on my lap

***

^{* Father’s Younger Brother in Assamese}