Homai Vyarawalla

Where art thou now, woman with flashing light, like fingers of God freezing time and men, in black and white. Thou art not here, but thou art here forever like death could not pinch thee away from my eyes nor hide thee beyond the chronicle of Mumbai. Many will rest but thou will not, thou weary soul. I saw thy work hanging like the lynched Messiah, and saw the truth; life has no voice to speak thy praise, but death … thy worship raised, like Lazarus from the grave.