In a rainbow coloured casket

she looked prettier than ever

her hair untamed , as always

the ivory gown ditched for her black lace dress

and the unusual cortege followed…

Broken toys and shattered dreams

crumpled letters and crushed petals

torn sheets and ripped pillows

incomplete music sheets and a broken guitar

there were words drowned in puddles of tears

wounds that walked like proud trophies

duvets that had kept her warm on cold nights

a cracked mirror that once mocked her

an ugly truth that had been cloaked for long

sultry dresses and a siren song

masks she’d worn and butterflies she’d chased

pictures of the one she’d secretly embrace

Balloons released and bubbles blown

as each of them went down with her

mirthful tunes filled the air

and the dark clouds could finally disappear .

— that mishmash




22 thoughts on “Cortege

      1. Not I! Mirza Ibrahim Zauq, I think.

        In pain, I cry that I shall surely die
        If death not be a salve, whither would I fly?

        That’s a loose translation. Didn’t know you didn’t know a lot of Hindi.

        Liked by 2 people

  1. I try . I did translate it my own way but it was nothing like how you have .

    I didn’t have very friendly Hindi teachers . I wish I was more fluent and had read more .

    whither will I fly ???? Clueless . Hell may be .


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