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.