The mourners filled the living room and spilled out into the passage and out of the front door. Their praying was a low murmur as the men came in to fetch the body. The body lay on the floor covered in 6 meters of white calico, it was difficult to believe that life oozed out of every pore of his body, especially his hazel brown eyes.
She averted her gaze, the tears still streamed out of her eyes. He would walk through the door any moment now, this was all her imagination, she had replayed his return in her mind a million times. “Hey babes what’s for dinner”, he would say, smiling, his white teeth sparkling.
The murmur turned into wailing and screaming as they lifted the body into the coffin, the men would give prayers for the dead and proceed to the graveyard for the burial, the women would pray here, which was what was suppose to happen in theory, the reality was that they would strip of their head scarves and reach for their cigarettes, as there was usually no smoking while the body was still in the house.
It had been earlier this morning, she had got out of the bed for prayers at dawn, pulled on her tracksuit and went for her run. She got back and jumped into the shower, smiling about one of their honeymoon memories as she stood under the steaming water. She had thrown on something casual and skipped downstairs for breakfast, Aadil was still in bed, she was glad that at two and a half he was into a full night’s sleeping routine.
There was a knock on the door, “who could that be?”, her mother in law was only due around 10:00 to take Aadil to the zoo for the day , it was only 8:30. She opened the door, two uniformed men , stood silently .
“Good Morning ma’am, We are sorry to inform you…"
She heard nothing, her eyes had fallen onto the folded flag in his hands.
4 comments:
your post made my heart ache. This too familiar story makes me angry, sad, hurt, angry, angry,angry. For all the lives lost, for everything destroyed.
A sad reality eh? I don't know when will the world (America in particular) realise that the price of war far outweighs whatever "benefits" they may attain from raping and pillaging a defenseless country...it has brought them nothing but grief and sorrow. You'd think they'd learn after Vietnam...
Dear Blogger,
The constant recurrence of "death" and absence through the dissolution of relationships reflect a desire of lack through your writings. A lack in the life of the author, the condition of the unconscious finds its sway in the production of art.
The art you produce in your blog s not for any capitalist utilitarian purpose. It has no material purpose; neither is it for any other purpose in life. It is a production of Art for Art's sake.
Or it could be the other way around as well.
Dear anon - death is an ever present reality and the only definite , however when it is the actions of occupiers or imperialists that send home vast volumes of body bags just to further their agendas or monetary gain then it is time for the foot soldiers and those around them to fight back in any way they can ...
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