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It had been a long draining flight for Prabhu. The Kolkata heat, the humidity was sapping.  Prabhu staggered as he broke sweat.

Prabhu was relieved to be home, not that he made it in time. Prabhu entered the room, and there lay his embalmed mother in a refrigerated casket.

The embalmers had done well. Mother looked at her usual self. There was no sign of any decomposition.

He sat besides his mother’s casket expecting tears to cascade down. It did not happen.

Prabhu was introspecting his emotions. There were none of those tears flowing, and that sense of loss seemed missing.

It was when after the rituals she was carried to the hearse Prabhu realised that mother is never going to come back home.  His childhood memories tugged his heart. Prabhu remembered how traumatised he was when Mother had to leave him behind with Father for a week. Prabhu remembered how he refused to go to school till Mother came back.  What had changed now? Why am I not emoting Prabhu questioned himself?

Prabhu shrugged off these thoughts, hoping that a torrent of emotions would flood in at some stage.

The next day, Prabhu  accompanied his mother in the hearse. Prabhu found himself annoyed that the world around were oblivious to his loss. People were going about their lives. The traffic was heavy. The car behind was honking at us to move aside so that the occupants could reach their destination on time. Prabhu’s mother had reached her destination on time. Prabhu wondered what it was with the car behind? What was the hurry? We will all reach our destination on time.

Prabhu saw his mother pushed into that box of fire. Soon, he thought, mother would be reduced to ashes. One moment and life changes.

Prabhu walked out of the crematorium and stepped aside. There were more who had reached their destination on time. There were bodies lining up. The dead were in no hurry. It was the alive who wanted to cremate and go home.

Prabhu walked across the road, lit a cigarette, and walked away. The traffic was heavy, he thought.