[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Funeral by Sheena Singh – Issue.XXIII : December 2016 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]and only a poet can record this…[/ultimate_heading]

Introduction to the Poet:

Sheena Singh is an engineer by profession. She takes interest in writing poems and short stories as well as listening to music.





The sandal wood paste

spread on his forehead

sparkled in noon light,

token of his brilliance…

The yellow crossed thread

tied across his toes

conveyed strength of his will.

The stacked wooden pyre

where his body slept, sang,

an untold journey

of his silent struggle…

the scent of melted butter

rolled on his body

that subtle savour:

fragrance of his virtues?

The saffron pyre fumes

engulfing every essence:

hushed up his humour…

the sharp bamboo pole

cracked his burning skull

freeing the trapped soul…

void surrounds his body

no more flesh

not his spirit

but for a conscience …