Sitting under this tree that echoes both the symphony of life and death I see students playing before me…..mostly these are freshmen playing cricket occasionally producing strange sounds to bring me back from my melancholic reverie to see them and cheer at how good they look. I laugh at their naivety and then keep moving my fingers in rhythm to the rhythm of my thoughts. Slowly and gradually they are disappearing into the fogginess of life. their faces getting dimmer and dimmer…their movements becoming slower and nimble…I felt myself alighting into a stage where there is no space and time…no worries and no elation… where there is a longing to cry and feel nothing at the same time….I am alone here and cool wind is blowing playing with my veil..disturbing it…chilling my blood in my veins and leaving my fingers weaker and weaker and yet I go on writing.I am frozen in my own melancholic thoughts but I feel an extraordinary coldness in the environment.
the murmuring around me is like death and yes there is ……death before me.
I felt a chill passing through my each limb as I hear some one around me saying…
“It’s a funeral …..Quite for a while! But behind me chatting continues.
I see a group of men coming towards the graveyard with a man in front holding a bundle of white sheets.
“Yes it’s a funeral but a funeral of someone who had barely opened his eyes”
someone said.
Why is it that my emotions are different from the women who bore that child….
Had it been my child I would never have handed them over to bury him here alone…..
away from me.
But brave is the woman. I wonder...But perhaps too much pain leaves us numb.Perhaps when we suffer a lot we cease to feel painPerhaps….Pain is only when there is no painAndThere is no pain when there is too much pain.I wonder if it’s right.
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