Non-PRO English to Italian Other Folklore funerale indinano

He had never been particularly religious, and it was
clear that for him my mother’s
passing, notwithstanding this
last ritual, was over. As the boat sped hard over the waves, my
belly churned. I had to keep my waist in contact with the
priest’s table
to keep from falling over.
The priest started off by placing a long piece of red thread
on my and my brother’s
heads, dangling down to our shoulders.
He smeared tikkas of red paste on our brows. Next, he lit
incense sticks and cotton balls soaked in oil. Rajiv and I made
sixteen balls of dough, about the size of a donut hole, from
flour, water,
and milk and placed them on a metal plate, along
with acorns, rice, and an assortment of seeds and other provisions,
including holy water
from Haridwar, that were
supposed
to sustain my mother
in her journey into the afterlife. The priest
unscrewed the top of the urn, and we sprinkled holy water
on the plastic bag containing my mother’s
remains. We then
opened the bag and poured in more water
and some milk,
along with the items on the plate. Next we emptied the contents
of the bag into a white wicker basket. The ashes were
charcoal gray; it was hard to believe that this was all that was
left of the body. We placed the empty bag in the basket, too.