New saree

With a crest of jasmine
The framed photo
Of her as a child
Stands against the wall
Her favourite sweet dish
She had rarely
Even on festive occasions
Is placed before it
Incense that evokes temples
And prayer time at home
Suddenly smells of death
It is the shop fresh
Synthetic saree
The colour of brinjal flowers
That brings her image
Before my eyes
How fond of clothes she was
And how few she had!
How I want to see her
Wearing this new one
And asking me
With a happy laugh
How she looks in it!