Lalita is no more. She loved words. She would have liked a pithy obituary, preferably with an anagram or two thrown in. I can't write anything for her now. I am glad that I could meet her a couple of times and discuss poetry and translation with her. This was the last translation she wrote for me.
ஒரு வண்ணத்துப் பூச்சி எந்தன் வழி தேடி வந்தது
அதன் வண்ணங்கள் மட்டும் இங்கு விரலோடு உள்ளது
A butterfly once happened upon my path
My fingers still sport tints of aftermath.
What more to say. Thanks for everything Lalita.