Funeral Speech Poem by Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih

‘De mortuis nil nisi bonum'. - Latin Proverb

Funerals are places where I stand aloof
amidst whispers, hush-toned gossip
and stifled chuckles, bowing my head,
looking at my shoes, or turning heavenwards
with vacant eyes, listening to vigorous homilies
and songs, drowning all wailings.

But once, the usual did not happen: once
I was asked to deliver a funeral speech.

I began to daydream.

Friends, neighbours, kith and kin,
Bah* Robin was a good office-goer
and very much a gentleman.
Soft-spoken and mild-mannered,
he never had a harsh word for anyone.
But very sad to say, he listened
to the tavern's song and began walking
like a seismograph. His eyes took on
the rustiness of betel nut stain, the watery glaze
of a nitwit. His head became the tangled
nest of a crow, his cheeks a pair of buttocks
and his nose a tomato that dripped
so consistently that the teeth of an elephant
seemed to grow from his nostrils. His lips
were moist and bloated like rotten brinjals,
his teeth like a dog's feasting on excrement,
his breath like menstrual blood,
and his body odour like the scent of a cobra.

In this way, he led a most despicable
and miserable life, speaking the language
of A-category auditors and deserting
his wife and only daughter. For the last fifteen
years, he had so devotedly given himself up
to drink that his medical report said
there was no more blood in his alcohol.

What good can be said about him now?
Friends used to say he had neat handwriting,
but what...

Jolted out of my reverie and reminded
of my duty, I recoiled in horror
and left in a hurry.

‘De mortuis nil nisi bonum'
(‘Of the dead, [say] nothing but good') .


*Mister.