She had Dyed black hair mixed with some white hair
A red bindi on her forehead placed symmetrically
She used to drape a sari with a lot of patterns on it
She was my nani, my grandmother, my friend

My nani used to make the best achaar that I ever had
My palate still has that tangy flavor of her achaar
Afterall it was mixed with love and selflessness of hers
I have bitter-sweet memories of her, mostly sweet

We both used to dance to old retro Hindi songs
She was always ready to do an impromptu for me
Nani used to tell me ghost stories of her village
Some of them sounded fake but she said they weren’t

Nani left me sooner than anticipated
She might be in heaven taking care of the angels
But she had left a lot of memories for me to live on
Her bindi, achaar, saari, and her laughter