The Road Between

I walked among the quiet, measured breath

To mourn my friend’s mother, bowed by grace,

Where words fell short before the weight of death,

And silence stood to take their place.

 

Across the road, a truth too clear to hide,

Necropolis facing acropolis high,

The city of the dead, the living side,

Two worlds beneath a single sky.

 

Once, tombs lay far from daily human tread,

At edges where the ancient cities end,

But now cities build them within instead,

Where life and loss no longer bend.

 

Smoke rose slowly, prayers dissolved in air,

While horns and footsteps claimed the street,

Death waited in bier, calm, patient and fair,

As life flowed past on hurried, restless feet.

 

~ Dr Intaj Malek

(Written at Thaltej crematorium on the funeral of Hasumati Kamdar)

 

 

 

Funeral Road

 I walked behind quiet footsteps,
to the funeral of my friend’s mother,
where words grew thin
and silence knew no names.
 
Across the road, seen a chimney of
necropolis facing acropolis,
death and height staring at one another
like old philosophers
who already knew the answer.
 
Once, in ancient cities,
the necropolis slept at the edges,
a distant place for ashes and memory.
But here, in modern city of hassles,
it is vast, present, unavoidable
a city within the city.
 
Opposite it rises the acropolis of living days:
traffic, voices, unfinished plans,
people climbing toward tomorrow
without looking across the road.
 
Smoke lifts.
Prayers dissolve into air.
Life continues, stubborn and bright,
while death waits calmly,
never in a hurry.
 
What a coincidence, we say.
What a truth, life replies
those beginnings and endings
often live face to face,
and we are always
crossing the street between them.
 
~Dr Intaj Malek

(Written at Thaltej crematorium on the funeral of Hasumati Kamdar)