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This is so distressing and disturbing. Kind of nightmarish. Can't stop thinking about it.
Closest I can remember is an experience I had when i was in school. My uncle had expired in Arnala off Virar and i had accompanied my father to the funeral.
I do not exactly remember where we started from. But I do remember it was late in the night.
There were just a handful of janaza (coffin) bearers. And my father father shouldered one corner of it. I too shouldered it but was barred because I was too short.
I kept pace beside my father, every now and then offering to help. But he'd refuse.
The funeral procession sloshed through muddy pathways and marshy fields.
I could hear my father panting as he bore one end of the coffin. His feet and pants were covered knee-deep with mud as his feet sank in the soft ground many times as he struggled to keep balance.
It was the rainy season. We must have walked for almost two hours before we reached the kabrastan (burial ground) of our community.
With great grief my father bid adieu to his elder brother who had brought him to Mumbai and laid him to rest finally.
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