One is in 'Waiting'Even after it's overGrief comes to stay Never up for closure... There is no escape everyone is always yearning Grief envelops those Left behind in 'waiting'...‘Staying stuck’ in pain Hiding deep in the heart'Let go' ! Yes, but how-to make a new start... One has to live in the Dark blind ‘Black-hole’Until Light would grace Rekindling a 'Whole'(Page 49)

— Neena Verma

Parent Nothing … No One Prepares a parent to raise the child Nothing … No One Can ever prepare a parent to bear the loss of child

— Neena Verma

The crumbling under the ‘cold corpse’The deafness of ‘mortal separation’The moaning wails of ‘mourning’The push to ‘perform rituals’The spectacle of ‘sorrow’The goriness of ‘grief’And The ‘mercilessness’ of the ‘merciful’Who knows … ‘What’ and ‘why’ Who would ever want to know (Page 34)

— Neena Verma

The morning’s splendor is conceived in the dark womb of night. A truth … we all know and believe. Yet a truth, that is most difficult to live and endure when one is in that dark womb. Alive and breathing … but inert, vulnerable, and ‘in waiting’. Witnessing but not conscious, wakeful but not awake. (Page 2)

— Neena Verma

There are words like ‘orphan’, ‘widow’ and ‘widower’ in all languages. But there is no word in any language to describe a parent who loses a child. How does one describe the pain of ‘ultimate bereavement’! (Page 50)

— Neena Verma

The Source … Who are You Where lay your pathway be on your journey... The Source … Your marvel amazes Your mystique invokes Your magnificence entrances (Page 88)

— Neena Verma

Twilight … Not just a metaphor The metaphor of the ‘spirit’The confluence of life and death The celestial dance of existential and essential (Page 75)

— Neena Verma

Twilight ... Say, who you are !! The dusk before the night Or the dawn before the light (Page 73)

— Neena Verma

Twilight, the only time of the day when the light and dark meet and become one. The bright powerful light of the day, calmly surrenders before the engulfing duskiness of the night. And the dense whelming darkness of the night yields before the surreal dawning saffron of the morning. The only two moments of the day that absolve the difference between ‘dark and light’. (Page 71)

— Neena Verma

We are generally not programmed to imagine death, to handle death, to absorb grief, at least not in the immediacy of things, definitely not when the ‘thing’ has happened to another person.

— Neena Verma