DEATH. This word has been etched on my mind since yesterday. As an upshot, my mood remained gloomy the whole day with me, trying desperately to figure out the reason and ending up rather unsuccessful. In the last 24 hours, I heard about the saddening demise of a handful of people, the beloved ones of those I hold dear and also of those, who I don't know but came to know by virtue of news.
When I was a child, I used to be afraid of going near dead bodies. My immature brain was unable to process how could someone, I saw just a few days ago, could lie so still, not even moving a finger, wrapped in all white, 'like a candy' -that's how I used to refer to it in front of my mom. Listening to others cry and weep used to stir a feeling of uneasiness and I could sometimes feel darkness engulfing me. When I grew up a little, and became sensible enough to know what it means to be dead, I realised how hard it was for me to shed some tears at a funeral, even if it was a close relative. Every time, I went to a funeral, I used to satisfy myself by putting on a sad facade and faking to wipe tears off my eyes.
The time, tears came rushing on their own without having me to try, was when I heard about the death of a distant relative. The person who filled the abyss that was created by the death of my paternal grandparents, even before my parents tied the knot. Deep down I knew I had lost someone who has showered me with immense love without hoping for me to return the favor and so, those tears were shed however, in discretion.
Surprisingly enough, when my maternal grandmother set off on the eternal journey, I expected it to be extremely painful. The pain never came. A few hours after making my way to the funeral, I found myself playing in the garden with other children.
It took kinda long for the true meaning of losing someone to hit me. It was painful beyond imagination when my childhood bestfriend B's father died. I didn't know how to confront her, let alone console her. My mother kept telling me how much in need of a shoulder she is to cry on. My senses were completely blocked out to accept the reality and I came up with my final decision. To not go to the funeral. Turned out, my mother's taunts directed at my in-sensitiveness left me with no choice but to take my decision back. Dejected, I made my way towards B's place. I saw her sitting in a room surrounded by a flood of people, and sat next to her. She kept weeping and choking as a relative of hers tried to force spoonfuls of Biryani down her throat. I looked at my mom, who kept nudging me to offer a few consoling words to B. As soon as I opened my mouth, no words came out but the crying. Watching me cry, she started crying louder. I was embarrassed at the thought of how I couldn't fight back my tears, it all came shattering down in a matter of seconds. Next moment, I gathered myself and made a run for my house. I never looked back, knowing that I'd made it all worse for my friend.
To this date, I'm still a coward. I still am oblivious of how to confront those, who have lost a beloved one? For this very reason, I avoid attending funerals for which I might have been taken as an unkind person.
I would I'm filled up-to-the-brim with pure hatred for the cruel aliens (as calling them humans would be a disgrace to the entire human race), who take lives of others for material and political reasons without stopping to think how many other souls will be lost along with one. However, they all should be totally aware of the fact that one day they'll meet their dreadful fate. As Day of Judgement is as inevitable as death.
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