FOR MY BOOKS, PLEASE VISIT THE LINKS BELOW (FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED):
POEMS OF LOST LOVE
Poetry book 'INDELIBLE ETERNAL ETCHINGS':
STORIES
Short Story book 'A PEARL FROM EVERY OYSTER':
For other countries, please visit the respective Amazon sites.
Showing posts with label The Face of Death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Face of Death. Show all posts
Sunday, July 27, 2025
Wednesday, August 9, 2023
THE SCENT OF WAR AND THE SCENT OF FLOWERS
@Luton War Memorial, London.
Soldiers rarely have a bed of flowers 🌹to recline and enjoy and in dying for us, they share with us their bed of flowers🍁.
The scent of war and the scent of flowers are two extremes and it's often only through the latter, that we are attracted to a memorial.
FOR MY BOOKS, PLEASE VISIT THE LINKS BELOW (FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED):
POEMS OF LOST LOVE
Poetry book 'INDELIBLE ETERNAL ETCHINGS':
https://www.amazon.in/INDELIBLE-ETERNAL-ETCHINGS-emotions-unbridled-ebook/dp/B072J4L656/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=indelible+eternal+etchings&qid=1583428166&sr=8-1
https://www.amazon.com/INDELIBLE-ETERNAL-ETCHINGS-emotions-unbridled-ebook/dp/B072J4L656/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=indelible+eternal+etchings&qid=1583428402&sr=8-1
STORIES
Short Story book 'A PEARL FROM EVERY OYSTER':
https://notionpress.com/read/a-pearl-from-every-oyster
https://www.amazon.in/Pearl-Every-Oyster-Stories-Shorter/dp/1948473151/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3GI23X9JIKQGK&keywords=a+pearl+from+every+oyster&qid=1583428674&sprefix=A+Pearl+from%2Caps%2C302&sr=8-1
https://www.amazon.com/Pearl-Every-Oyster-Stories-Shorter-ebook/dp/B07948GRVC/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1H9GU3Q8JNH29&keywords=a+pearl+from+every+oyster&qid=1583428722&sprefix=a+pearl+from+ev%2Caps%2C363&sr=8-1
For other countries, please visit the respective Amazon sites.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
THE FINAL JOURNEY
It was a rainy morning in
October 1982. I was nine years old then. Although the peculiar stench of the
mortuary was making me uneasy, I still enjoyed the rhythm of the water drops
falling from the grill of the large window beside which I was standing.
My mind though, was still in parallel pondering on why Dad had woken me up early that morning and taken me with him to the mortuary. I knew Dad was here to assist with the burial of John Uncle who had passed away a few days back. John Uncle was a widower. He had been staying in Chennai and all his three sons were settled outside India. They would be reaching only that day afternoon. Some friend had to step in to support the family in the absence of his children.
Dad was a pillar of silence as he stood beside me. He got the news from John Uncle's neighbours, only after the body was kept in the mortuary. Standing beside him was another man of almost the same age as him. He was a close relative of John Uncle who had come from Kerala to attend the funeral.
There were a few other
people, possibly the family members of the other departed ones whose mortal
remains were also kept there. Soon, I saw two attenders carry the body of John
Uncle out of the chambers and then place it on the floor. The sheet that
covered the mortal remains was old and dirty and so was the attire that was on
it. They lifted the head and placed it on a wooden block, so as to keep it
raised. The two attenders proceeded to strip the clothes from the body and then
with an ordinary bar soap that is normally used to wash clothes, proceeded to
bathe and clean the body.
I turned away from that
ghastly scene and looked out through the window. I tried to keep my eyes and thoughts
fixed on a crow outside whose feathers were all ruffled up after it had shook
off the rain water that had dressed it. I could feel Dad's hand pat me from behind.
"Do you remember going to John Uncle’s house last Christmas as part of our carol group? It was drizzling then and he did not let us inside. We could hear him say that he felt that we would dirty the house, as we were all wet. And so the entire carol group stood outside the gate and sang two songs and then we left. And today, you see the irony. The clothes that were on his corpse and the floor where it is kept now are all dirty. This is life. There is nothing here that we can possess and take with us my son. Unless you have exhibited love and respect, mostly you will not get it in return.", he said calmly. The two attenders dressed the body again and soon we left the place along with the body.
"Do you remember going to John Uncle’s house last Christmas as part of our carol group? It was drizzling then and he did not let us inside. We could hear him say that he felt that we would dirty the house, as we were all wet. And so the entire carol group stood outside the gate and sang two songs and then we left. And today, you see the irony. The clothes that were on his corpse and the floor where it is kept now are all dirty. This is life. There is nothing here that we can possess and take with us my son. Unless you have exhibited love and respect, mostly you will not get it in return.", he said calmly. The two attenders dressed the body again and soon we left the place along with the body.
As I left that place,
although it was a harsh reality of life that Dad had shared, I found it very
difficult to digest. But that’s what life is, when it shows its ruthless face.
You can have some more taste of my writing through my books. Visit them at the links below:
You can have some more taste of my writing through my books. Visit them at the links below:
Short Stories:
A Pearl From Every Oyster - India Link
A Pearl From Every Oyster - USA Link
Poetry:
Indelible Eternal Etchings - Poetry- USA Link
The book is available across all Amazon country sites with some providing both Kindle and printed versions and the others only Kindle versions.
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