Leela’s mother was sleeping inside oblivious of everything.
Another streak of hot silver splits the sky, the priest beckoned to everyone that it was time. Leela glistened and shimmered in the thousand flames. Her gold ornaments twinkled in the yellow flames.
Darkness fell on the village, with it the promise and signs of an impending thunderstorm was profound.
The committee commenced again to organize the procession, youths first. The pallbearers are ready. The priest in the front, Nuns would be just behind the coffin, singing hymns.
Another lightning bolt and hands worked together to raise the coffin.
Older women, kids, and a few relatives stayed back with Leela’s mother at home. Mr. Tharakan, unable to walk, had to be carried to the cemetery on a chair that was tied to two poles that
