Lost someone, again!

Remnants of that Winter morning!

It’s 5 a.m. on a winter morning. I find myself walking on a dusty path in a countryside, surrounded by mustard fields and eucalyptus trees. The spine-chilling cold is shivering me from the inside.

The warm golden light has barely started to filter through the white misty fields. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight. But I do not take my camera out. I just continue to walk. It’s eerily quiet. But I am not alone. Around 100 people people accompany me as we walk towards the nearby stream. As we reach the sandy shore, everyone comes to a halt. We quietly circle around a pile of ash lying on the riverbed, still warm from the overnight fire. 2 days ago, this pile of ash had been a living, walking human being, smiling, talking, and showing up on my wife’s video call every few hours. He was her wake-up call, and they were always calling each other to share anything mundane or worthwhile.

And now I stand here and watch her hands sift through his ashes, trying to gather his remains. A tiny claypot of unburnt bones, is all that’s left of him. I am heartbroken, but there’s nothing I can do. I lost my father 4 years ago. And now I witness her losing one.

I will miss having a fatherly figure, his strong viewpoints on politics and religion and him reassuringly saying “badhiya-fine”, whenever I asked him about his health. But more than anything else, I will miss his voice and random glances of his face on her phone every couple of hours!