THROUGH A GLASS, LIGHTLY

Death
is just a game
of hide and seek

Artwork by Jack Vettriano via magpie tales

Now you see me
Now you don't

Look for me
and you will find
somewhere
in the galleries of your mind
a memory

Set it free.

Look up and smile -

The face in the window
is me.


© Shaista Tayabali

When I was little, England was many things, but every year it arrived, in a practical fashion, in my aunt's suitcase. Ladies' thingamies for my mother from Marks & Spencer, Hello! magazines, endlessly fabulous sweeties (the swirly lollipops!!) and clean fresh tidiness. Many relatives came to the Big House in Bombay, from various parts of the world including England, but my Aunt Saida, living in Belsize Park, smoking the odd cigarette with the grace of Kelly, was particularly fascinating to me. She was a single mother from the early 60s onwards, and the loss of her husband from a massive heart attack, so early in their marriage, always gave her the air of a Woman Who Could Manage Anything.

Oh The 70s

When I first came to London as an impressionable fifteen-year old, sans parents, I loved watching her park, and just avoid swearing at the difficulty of finding a space. I learnt how to make a ready meal from Waitrose or Sainsbury look appetising - toss a salad! I learnt to keep her bathroom neat to her standards (terrifying!) and watch a woman enjoy a glass of wine/ sherry/ whisky and a deep profound drag of tobacco while dissecting life, other relatives and the intricacies of her relationship with her only sister. Her hazel eyes could go misty with emotion or daggers angry given the right conversation - yet she always maintained that elegance and dignity that defines certain women.   
Aunty passed away today after a sudden heart attack. A full life, of course, packed with Drama. Her death marks the passing of the last of my Father's siblings.