She should go like a queen.
When Leela came back carried, by the woman, wearing her silk gown, ornate in her gold ornaments, the coffin for her last journey was ready.
Mr. Tharakan’s legs gave up like baked noodles and he slithered into a chair. Not wanting to see his beloved daughter, dressed like a bride, only lifeless. His brothers stood by him holding his shoulders.
No one knew how to console them.
In the Shamiana, made with knitted coconut palm leaves a bench was put forth covered in white linen. Leela’s body was transferred to the coffin, and the candles were lit. The priest gave last-minute instructions. The nuns stood as a choir behind the priest. The altar boys stood at the right and left of the priest.
When the prayers started it got muffled by the frantic cries of her mothe
