‘Grave’

I don’t have a story of morose,

but recalling…

took me to the graveyard,

my first visit of a crematory,

following 24 hours of

my grandfather’s death,

for near and dear ones

needed to see the corpse

and cry. Everyone

anticipated.

But, when they arrived,

all in exodus, they cried

as if they have rehearsed

for another play.

His esophagus stopped

giving welcome to

passages of food, and

he was doomed to die,

not an accident,

all knew for months;

tears should have

dried up in the gland by then.

But, they cried as if…

they had a bolt from the blue,

meaning they haven’t really

expected, and he died

leaving all miserable

in their conditions.

That was not true, he

gave all space to think

everything before he died,

months ago, when the doctors

had already drawn the boundary.

Legacy was not the concern,

he didn’t have it at all,

the primary concern being

the house, which awaited

for disintegration,

in the European style,

why not my people

get colonized?

The wives were advocates

of partition, more freedom,

like Europeans…

So, the play got over

after crying and obliging

for the last time, and

they were free

for ever later.

That was when, I walked

along with the four men,

close to them, as if I

desired to hold… the hearse.

It was established,

the pyre set; all assembled

silenced and gazed, gazed poignant,

gazed at memories.

I do not know, but that’s bound.

Suddenly, I was astonished, I

was marveled… Like in a cinema;

like in a miracle, the body tried as if

to squat, irritated by the rage

of that inferno of the pyre.

The body, as if shouted for help

to rescue from that hell, I

opened my mouth, for someone

to say something…

I heard the wood breaking sounds

of the pecker from the pyre,

as if that was the sound they made,

when it was burnt. Then,

the body slept again,

for ever and ever.

My long for the last voice

was not satisfied,

I endeared him.

Why should I say that?

It should be felt.

The naked body

melted, bones and ashes

collected for ceremonies,

people gathered to

fill stomachs,

the man behind was forgotten.

Until many weeks, I

remained frightened,

as if he would return,

but someone said,

when you feel

weird, remember

the grave, the burning hell

of the grave, and

you can realize,

many graves are yet

to come…

Do not cry at the grave,

as every man has his day, there.