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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.
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