The child was not breathing. It lay still, the world no longer visible to it. There was no fighting, no resisting. Just giving in to the harsh winds of the dark and merciless winter. Its body was barely covered with rags, just enough to give the impression of it being dressed. Now, we come to the parents. In their eyes, there is another conflict. A conflict between Despair and Doubt. Both fighting each other. The attendees end it quickly, though. Despair wins. The child is gone. Now, they grieve, crying and cursing their fortune & luck. Perhaps it was karma for a previous life’s actions, or maybe it was just the world being the world. They say that we return to the very dust we are born out of. Perhaps we just wish the duration of stay could have been better for this poor child, amongst a million others.
Now, the parents calm down, becoming expressionless and quiet. They take the baby away for a funeral. No one knows how it will be given, but everyone knows why they are calm. The child’s death is as natural to them as the setting of the sun. For a poor family that is barely making ends meet, it is to be expected. So, they leave aside all thoughts of comfort. Instead, they focus on the funeral and going back to work. After all, there are still six more left for them to care for. Perhaps, it is amongst the best ways to handle things for many. Rather than beating them up when they are alive and dressing them up like kings when they die, we should also prefer to grieve for those who are gone and live for those who aren’t.
