The small things remain behind.
The thin glass bangles that went up and down wrinkled arms.
The cotton saris that had softened over time; that had been speckled with stray marks of our childhood.
The books, dog eared with age, sitting next to a pair of runaway spectacles.
The familiarity will be missed; of having her in the house and of her quiet enthusiastic presence. The room will be empty for a while and the bed sheets will smell of her. In the night, I will find myself searching for the soft thump of her footsteps.
Earlier today, the thick metal shutter of the incinerator came down, swallowing her whole into its fierce stomach. I stood outside and watched her life become dust in a glass jar.
It was a full life; one that not many people witness.
The ashes will find themselves in some holy water body somewhere. In the meantime, she is far away - much happier and in no pain.
