Death

I always kissed him 

On the forehead

Before going away

To school, to college, to Mumbai.

Always kissed him goodbye

Except now

When I was home

And he lay in the vault downstairs

With a cannula in his leg

And a drip hanging above

Death

Is ugly.

He wouldn’t let 

Any outsider touch him

But today someone

Shaved his leg

To find a vein

For the needle

Someone who was assured

That he wouldn’t bite

He can hardly move

I wished for a moment

That he would fight

Like he used to

With dignity

But death

Strips it all apart.

When I watched him 

Gasping for breath

It wasn’t with the hope

That he doesn’t give up

But with the desire

To see his breathing get normal

Again.

Normal

Is what we call a situation

That is regular yet so perfect

That it can easily

Be taken for granted

Until it ceases 

To exist.

We knew death was looming

Although nobody spoke of it

I knew we all wanted

What was best for him

With the hope

That death 

Doesn’t beat us to it

But it did

Because death.

I finally stepped out 

During the pandemic

To watch my Spark

Get buried.