Bappama

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I skipped the cremation
No one pressed me to pay homage
I had exams at Berkeley

Married at sixteen, mother of six
She wore her wedding mangalsutra around her neck
Wrapped in a peach sari
No visions of cheery baking or whiff of chocolate chip cookies
In the kitchen
(But I did see her grating coconut for chutney)
So many afternoons spent
           in silence

Eight years to the day
Death ended stroke-induced limbo
Farewell to the holding cell
Rife with chatter in
                     English Only
Home sweet home

Who had time to visit?
Certainly not a teenage tennis-playing honor student
Beset with SAT stress and
angst that rivaled Holden’s

What kind of a name is Uma, anyway, you ask
A Hindu goddess
More than a Hollywood star
My Grandmother
Said with bristling self-importance but
           What do I know