THE FUNERAL- by Riddhima Sen
It was a gloomy and cloudy day in the month of August. It had been raining cats and dogs since the morning. The untimely demise of Mr Sinha, the patriarch of the Sinha household added further to the dull and lifeless environment around. The Sinha’s were an affluent family, based in the city of joy.
The patriarch of the household had recently turned sixty five years old. He was the head of the Sinha Automobile Industry, and the heirloom was passed on to his three sons. Today was the day of his funeral, a few days after the gloomy monsoon day. The entire family had gathered at the gigantic family mansion, clad in garments as white as the milk, and the moonlight. The sons were seated near the humongous photograph of their deceased father, a garland of flowers placed around his photo. Incense sticks were lit in front of him. The children and other distant relatives were seated farther.
The matriarch of the family, Mrs Manasi Sinha was joking with her friends near the kitchen. They were gossiping about how the pulses being cooked by the Brahmin chefs looked rather soupy, yet smelled great. They were indulging all of their senses in the fragrant smells of spices and food.
The ambience was quite frivolous for everyone. After all, what could be expected post the death of a toxic and dominant man, who controlled everything until his last day?
-RIDDHIMA SEN
