The Ashti-Kalashas Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

My mother was not,
But the asthi-kalasha was
Hanging near the near.

A small earthenware urn
With the ashes
And the unburnt navel of hers,
But covered with clay,
I found it hanging
Near my gate,
My last hope of getting solace from,
But it too remained it not for a long time.

The asthi-kalasha of my father
Lay it hanging from the stem of the old peepul tree
Standing on the river-bank
Of my village home
With his clothes scattered along the river sands.