a eulogy for Preeti Shakya

 Dear Preeti Shakya,

Today is seven days since we laid you to rest.

The send off was magical-- your swan friends showed up, did their dance as you met the river and danced some more before flying away in a flock. It was so beautiful and a fitting tribute to you, the girl who loved nature.

Here's the eulogy I wrote that Tenzi kindly read out at the prayer service:

Today you passed through a crematorium

and we were given palu-baji to eat—

ginger and flattened rice, 

a reminder that this is grief

and grief comes with a taste

that is both bland and potent

I spread out my palms 

balancing my plate that held

a fistful of baji, a lump of ginger,

and vegetables cooked without 

turmeric or spices. 

no colour 

grief has no colour—

food was served as grief today 

as you passed through a machine 

at a crematorium.

I could only stare at the plate 

resting on my palms, spread out wide 

Today, 

a year and two months 

since I held your face in sight

and just as long 

since we took that walk together around 

khastee

Let’s go, kora, I said

and you said you would 

if I promised to hold your hand

all the way.

we walked very very slowly,

we managed only one kora

I asked if you would come home 

and be with me forever.

we can grow old together, I said.

you said yes at first

and then you said, 

maybe it’s too late

you said London was now your home and you had to go home

at that moment, 

my mind must have been too dense

to fathom what you meant by home.

you meant

London was where you would go home

to yourself

Tomorrow,

you will be the dust that flies over

the surface of the ripples 

at a certain bend along the Thames,

and then in many hours 

find a new destination to rest forever

that's what you had meant 

when you said that was your home.

London, 

now your home forever.

and we, who grieve your absence,

we are the ones in transit. 

So long, Preeti didi...