“Over”
That was the only thing my father could say on the phone. His throat was choked. I understood, that my uncle was no more.
We waited till the next morning to cremate the body, for his son (on his way back from America to India) to see him for the last time.
We reached the crematorium at about 7 in the morning. The wood was damp, because of the dew in the morning. The service men were preparing for the cremation. The body was finally kept on the pyre. All clothes were removed, and the dead body was applied a lot of ghee. The body was covered with the same logs of wood.
On the other side, someone prepared a torch. It was finally lit. About 100 people there, all sad. Some friends, some well wishers and some relatives. A burst of weep for the last time. The body was put on fire. Within two hours, the body vanished.
It did not need any architecture for the crematorium to be one. Everyone existed in their own mental space. No enclosure, no protection, but only occupied by a sense of loss. Something disappeared right in front of our eyes, which was there till a few hours back. It was neither held by the walls, nor the roof. No material thing, no observable beauty, but the non existential fire, which made up a screen for the thoughts, the memories.
A body we tried to save and we burnt it ourselves.
It was indeed over.
That was the only thing my father could say on the phone. His throat was choked. I understood, that my uncle was no more.
We waited till the next morning to cremate the body, for his son (on his way back from America to India) to see him for the last time.
We reached the crematorium at about 7 in the morning. The wood was damp, because of the dew in the morning. The service men were preparing for the cremation. The body was finally kept on the pyre. All clothes were removed, and the dead body was applied a lot of ghee. The body was covered with the same logs of wood.
On the other side, someone prepared a torch. It was finally lit. About 100 people there, all sad. Some friends, some well wishers and some relatives. A burst of weep for the last time. The body was put on fire. Within two hours, the body vanished.
It did not need any architecture for the crematorium to be one. Everyone existed in their own mental space. No enclosure, no protection, but only occupied by a sense of loss. Something disappeared right in front of our eyes, which was there till a few hours back. It was neither held by the walls, nor the roof. No material thing, no observable beauty, but the non existential fire, which made up a screen for the thoughts, the memories.
A body we tried to save and we burnt it ourselves.
It was indeed over.
No comments:
Post a Comment