Tears In Front Of The Flame

The train entered Chandrapur District station just before nine in the morning. The small city had started to be busy, but definitely not as busy as Mumbai. The city known as Black Gold City as the coal beneath its land relatively quiet.

Praveen had not slept all night in the train. He couldn't even close his eyes. The bread he bought yesterday was not eaten at all. Only a little bottled water left.

When the train had stopped, Praveen hurriedly got out of the train. He ran out of the station and called for a tricycle bajaj that was parked on the side of the road waiting for  passengers. Everything was fast paced. He didn't even bargain the fare just got on board, sat down and asked the driver to take him to his house in the southern part of Chandrapur.

His heart was pounding. His mind wandered. If it was true that his mother died who will take care of the body? His mother was lived alone. It must had been Auntie Neha took care of everything with Sarpanch's help. Maybe she didn't call him anymore because she was so busy taking care of her late sister.

Suddenly he shivered at the thought of Antyesti's expense for his Mother. The money in his pocket was only 3500 rupees, not to mention that on the tenth day there would be a salvation ceremony by feeding the poor. It's getting frantic.

Sri Devi's body had been washed. The villagers worked together to organize the Antyesti procession.

His mother slipped in the bathroom four days ago in the early morning after woke up and getting ready to go to work. No one knew until her sister Neha came to see that her house was still tightly closed, no sign she leaving for the market.

She was lying with a slanted mouth and paralyzed right side of her body. She could not speak at all when asked. Neha panicked and called people to lift her sister's body onto the bed. She couldn't respond, only the movement of her eyes indicated she was still alive. All food and drink that was fed into her mouth could not intake. The shaman treated her was unsuccessful. She finally breathed her last two days ago.

The stiff body was wrapped in a white cloth. Her two toes were tied together with rope. Her forehead had also been given a red tilak. She looked sleeping but with a deathly pale face.

Soon her body will be carried to a cremation site in an open area near the river not far from her house. There, several villagers were also getting ready to welcome the bodies with a collection of firewood arranged with a flat top like a bed.

"Are we still waiting for the arrival of her son?" asked the Sarpanch, to Auntie Neha. The woman shook her head.

"No need. The body had been waiting for too long but still no news from her son. I take the responsibility now because the deceased is my own sister," said Aunt Neha, her eyes still puffy and red. Since yesterday, she had been crying incessantly for her sister death.

"Then let's carry the body," said the village head and then called some men to pick the body up and put her on a stretcher made of bamboo.

Since there was no man from the family acting as the leader of the funeral procession, it was the Sarpanch who acted as the leader.

Most of the accompanists were male villagers. They walked to the cremation site not far from Sri Devi's house.

The sky looked clear with a few clouds adorning the sky. Because the sun wasn't too high it wasn't that hot at that time.

Auntie Neha seemed to be walking at the back still sobbing. Soon the convoy arrived at an open field near the river.

Sri Devi's body was placed on a pile of firewood in the form of pieces of wood that were quite large, as big as an adult's thigh. Then they get ready for the cremation procession.

The villagers stood not far from the pile of wood like. The priest was ready. He circled the pile of wood and said invocation. He then put a pinch of rice in Sri Devi's mouth and sprinkled ghee on the pile of wood and on her body.

The faces of mourners looked so sad, because they had lost a good villager contrary to the very friendly weather.

The priest lifted a clay pot filled with water and again circled around the pile of wood where the stiffened body laying. After encircled her, he hit the pot a little high until it broke and scattered the water. He began to ignited pile of firewood.

When it started to light up, from a distance a young man was seen running so fast towards the cremation site.

It was late!

The pile was already on fire and smoke was starting to rise up

Praveen kneeled down in front of the flames. His lips trembled as he screamed for her mother.

"Mother! Mother! Forgive me." He wept like a child who had lost his mother. His chest was so tight with regret that he came so late that he couldn't see his mother one last time. People are just silent watching Praveen crying. His crying are so sad and heart-wrenching. The bigger the fire engulfed his mother's body, the louder he cried.

He did not accept this situation, but he was helpless. All of his joints were weak, as if they were about to fall out.

Auntie Neha put her arm around him, trying to calm her naughty nephew. Praveen cried on his aunt's shoulder.

"I-I'm sorry, Auntie. I-I came late," he said.

"You don't need to be sorry, everything had happened. Don't cry anymore," the woman coaxed, trying to stay strong. Even though she had been crying all day yesterday. But in front of her nephew, she tried to look strong.

Praveen rested his head on Neha's shoulder.

"I know, you are the one who sinned a lot against your mother, now you have to make up for it all with your good attitude."

Praveen continued to cry. The fire continued to burn higher and higher like it was reaching for the sky. The smoke also continued to rise. The crackling sound of blistered flesh continued.

The body of Sri Devi, a forty-five year old woman began to turn to ashes. Her life in this world was over, meeting her beloved husband who passed away  years ago. There was no trace of her left but her son who dreamed of becoming a Bollywood star but didn't make it.

The rest was just a memory for those close to her and for those who knew her. There's nothing left but ashes.

And when the fire was extinguished and cold, the ashes from her body will be collected and according to tradition will be thrown into the river. And it will completely disappear.

Praveen kept crying watching all that. The feeling of regret pressed against his chest. If only he wasn't late… if he hadn't gone to Mumbai it wouldn't have been like this.

It took a long time for the fire to burn everything until it was completely extinguished.

Praveen began to stop crying. When the people had left, he was still staring at the burning ashes.

"I'm sorry mother." he kept on saying those words.

Information:

Sarpanch : Village head

Antyesti: The procession of holding the corpse in Hinduism in India