Nair Crematorium

Nair crematorium, this is how I saved the number of the crematorium manager/owner, 

Where we took you, to free you, from the burden of being a land owner, 

But was it a burden really?

You chose to own two houses, freely,

You would have taken one look at that crematorium,

And said, “What a middle class place, to burn my corium”,

I agree, it shouldn’t have been you,

Your face still had the freshness of dew,

Your heart still so pure, even when it lost all it’s beats,

I’m sure you hated my choice of bedsheets,

To wrap you in, for your final journey,

But I was too engrossed staring at the gurney,

Which held you up, 

I wanted you to wake up,

Any minute now, before the fire consumed you,

Even while I rubbed cheap ghee on you,

But you stayed motionless,

Leaving me emotionless,

I hate my hands, the ones that untied the thread from your toes,

And pushed you close,

Into the raging fire,

All set to make you a pyre,

I can’t stand my fingers, the ones that dug out your grey ashes,

As our entire life, flooded inside my head in flashes,

It shouldn’t have been you,

Whose lips turned blue,

Your only crime being over-work and people pleasing,

What a high price you paid, for all that unnatural emotional squeezing,

I have nothing to say to those people,

Who kept you on an imaginary steeple,

Your untimely death is their punishment,

If they have any shame or conscience, they will lead the rest of their miserable lives, in self-punishment.