The Departed

There is no better (or worse) place than a crematorium or a graveyard to hear humbled earthlings waxing their eloquent on the metaphysics of life, death and thereafter. Some of them are grim in their expression but many, in fact, can be found smiling while expounding their views.

You might see gossipers at various corners of the yard, huddled in smaller groups, with less than passing interest at the actual grief of the affected family. Some of them take time to enjoy the scenery of the river, while a few others might go and take a walk around to marvel at the greenery of the landscape.

The truth is - except for the immediate family members and some extremely close friends, there would hardly be anyone who would feel any real loss or grief for the departed person. Even though man is a social animal, he/she is also selfish and fake on most of the occasions.

I know why I was in tears, though, while I recently attended a funeral. I honestly felt sad for the family who tried their best to prolong the life of the deceased but I cried because it reminded me of a similar personal tragedy which happened more than a decade and a half years ago in my life.

But I admit, I didn't cry for the person who was being cremated. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't have. I am not much different than others, after all.