Unframed

She wore sarees of

Bandini and,

Katha stitch,

Sometimes with

A pair stones,

Sometimes jhumkas.

Her eyes were lined

With a string of black –

Sometimes shy,

Sometimes bold –

That popped the

Amber fire in them.

There are tattoos

Of mandalas

And shlokas

Printed across

The crevices of her spine,

She didn’t just

Wear art,

But was

Art herself;

Weaving your soul

In patterns

You couldn’t explain

But only feel;

She was the

Unframed painting

Of limitless spirit.

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