Sweat dripped from the center of his back, but he barely noticed the sludgy contact. He did not want to move a muscle because that would uncomfortably peel his sweat-soaked shirt that stuck to his body in the scorching heat. The august afternoon air, thick and heavy with the burning odor, still as a corpse. What an ironic metaphor, he pondered. This is the kind of moment that presents a limited opportunity to reflect and perhaps earn an intense life lesson or two. Does one wait until the lesson slowly fills the mind or does one effort and search for a meaning? Would this effort be of a feverish pace attempting to reflect the eternity evolving through each moment or should it be frantic because life was a fleeting moment? He couldn't decide.
The priest spoke something about the burden of death and the eternal soul. He lifted his bowed head to look at the priest in the hope that he would be able to listen better. His view partially blocked by other taller mourners. He felt tired and overwhelmed. The dramatic funeral rituals lend a dominant identity to death and the declaration of sorrow heard in the overflowing emotions, he was suddenly unsure if he really grasped the entire depth of the loss here. Lifting his arm, he absentmindedly cleaned his sweating forehead, a slow desperation that some movement would attempt to break this wicked grief that the family had descended into for the last 2 days.
Perhaps tomorrow others will remember about his 13th birthday that is just around the corner and will make it as happy as it has always been. His favorite part was his mother waking him up in the morning, fragrant after a fresh morning shower, her wet hair against his cheek as she hugged him and gave him the firstPrasad from the dawn-break prayers, not once missing a beat on the holy chants dancing at her lips as she would gently nudge him to the prayer room to get his ‘special’ blessings for the day. Playfully he would not want to relent his sleep and theatrically fall back onto the pillow mumbling “no mom….”
“mom”
“mom?”
“MOM….??
“NO MOM…..”
“MOM!!!”
The heat was quickly taking its toll and the tired attention of the procession moved from the burning pyre to the young boy sobbing at his mother’s final journey. It was going to be a long day….it was going to be a long life…..
