On a Sunday afternoon,my dead body was burnt on a pyre. Usually,on days of funerals,it seems as if the entire world mourns ones’ death.The sun refuses to shine and the clouds cast a shadow of gloom.Atleast,that is how it had felt when my grand father died.But the day of my funeral was a cheerful one. The sun shone and the sky was clear.It was as if the earth celebrated my untimely death. The smoke from the pyre made patterns as it rose. My cousins had watched in fascination and glee. I must not blame them. They are quite young and do not understand the meaning of death.My relatives had told them that I had gone somewhere far away. My cousins were convinced that I would return some day. Their innocence was safe for now.
A service was held afterwards.It was more like a zoo,in my opinion. People came to gawk at my broken family and commend them on their strength to cope up. They had to cope up. My parents were far too proud to break down in public.my sister had refused to come as she thought that the service was a mockery of my memory.i personally think she was tired of being sympathized. My sister is one of those characters who leaves the past in the past and tries not to think of it. She hates crying in public and dressing up in black.maybe that is the reason why she hated funerals so much.Anyway,this became a topic of gossip soon and everyone started imagining how terrible our relationship had been. My parents looked like they were going to break down any moment. Their faces seemed to have aged 20 years and their eyes looked like lifeless sockets.i felt sorry for them,I did.it wasn’t their fault I was no longer alive and all that remained of me were ashes in an urn.my urn was gorgeous.my parents had gone with a red one,knowing that it was my favourite color.all the best things in life are red:strawberries,apples etc. but so were the worst things. I do apologise for going off topic. My English teacher is always telling me how I go off topic while writing.sorry,used to tell me. I am still not used to referring myself in past tense. I guess no one ever does.

The service had been held in a large banquet hall,with a huge framed photograph of me,kept near the podium. On normal days,I could have pointed out innumerable faults with the photo but I let it be as it was a special occasion. The eulogies were well written and beautifully executed,with the speaker crying at the right time. Just the right amount too. People who had never bothered to speak to me in school suddenly missed me and complimented my sense of humor. Girls who had made fun of me pretended to have been my friends. Relatives who had not bothered to pay a visit or even call on any occasion lamented over the fact that they had not spent enough time with me
It is deaths and birthdays that bring relatives together without them having any arguments.The only good thing that came out of my funeral was the reconciliation between my father and his two brothers,even if it were temporary.Soon after this joyous event,everyone started preparing for their journey back.You must be wondering why I just narrated this very cheerful event.Its because this was the last day someone truly remembered me.on other days,people did remember but only for a moment,maybe an hour.And I was happy to be forgotten.The deadhave to be forgotten.Otherwise,it is we who are haunted by our regrets and the passing time.