We sat in the afternoon in the shadows of
Ancient trees paying homage to the lady
Who had died, of excess of life over death.
We were treated to a feast in her honour
It was her wish we should be so treated.
She was sharing surplus life here with us.

Where was the promised river bank where we
Would Invoke her spirit amid deep-throated
Sanskrit chants and smoking holy fires?

There is no river bank here but ancient red walled
Storied structures .Here well-fed priests call down
The spirits of our dead by sonorous chants.

All the while she smiles beatifically, in the hall,
From her two-dimensional existence in a photo.
The excess life she had died of seems still spilling.

(Cancer is uncontrolled division and growth of cells meaning
unwanted increase in life activity and consequent breakdown
of life  support system)