My nani's house is no more

I have associated a perennial metaphor to your existence,

"a service woman hanging"

That's how I will choose to remember you 

The way people thought you rejoiced

in self-erasure 

The way people thought you rejoiced 

while starving 

But, dear nani, there is no hunger that could distort all your life in a bottle

As I immerse you away 

I know you would seek better horizons

You'd be respected better

And how I have come to this knowledge,

yes about that 

I, your foul-mouthed granddaughter, have nothing bad to say 

I wish you could have known me like this

As someone who doesn't even spare death 

I hope they ask you if you'd have eaten well

I hope you would get angry and make everyone go berserk

I saw your frozen face and no you 

didn't age at all

You remain fixed like everything else

around you 

Like the wood of the dressing table 

in your room 

I knocked on it hard

I could hear the same lost innocence,

same drowsy noons 

It made absolute my nani's house is no more 

Because the fair play you always preached didn't even reach you first.