ramkiwonders

Ever wondered how the road to your death smelt like?What are the sounds that grace you on your venerable march to your final destination.How you are treated to,in the journey to your graveyard,in our beloved nation.

It is like all hell let loose( even if it be so that you are destined for heaven).The epiphany of few young mad men on display.All their histrionic skills come to the fore.The drumbeats,the crackers it is like a parade commomerating a great achievement,like a time of celebration.Perhaps,the celebration from bondage of a soul that was struggling in the whirl of the world,wailing and waiting to free itself from the cudgels of confinement,one might presume.

May be the crowd that leads the way does not wish you to feel alone before you have to eventually embrace loneliness.That is why they make all the cacophony in the world in a travail that is considered to be a mark of commiseration.Dancing,dreaming they do lose control to get a whiff of what the man of the moment goes through.It is ultmately brotherhood,one might logically interpret that leads them to behaving this way.They too wish to feel what it means to be liberated in the true sense of the word.

The promenade does not lack flavour too.The perfume for the dead is the aroma of roses strewn about with careless disdain all over the place in the path of permanence.For,once in their lifetime the subject deserves attention,at least a causual glance if not anything else is theirs for the taking and to be looked at is what those guys around are trying desperately to get for the man in the question.Like a metaphorical symbolism of the eternal imprints of the person passing away lie those flowers all over the place.Also some noble intention of providing a refreshingly different breath for the passers by is unwittingly welded with the ceremony who are otherwise left to smell rotten on their respective routes.

The sounds do not lack the rhythm.There is that cadence and at regular intervals the bursts of fire rips the ears apart,the occasional whistling,the ethereal dance .It looks like these people are bringing the best out of their kitty to assuage the pain
in the last lap of the eternal ride.Is it joy, pain, a motley of emotions or sheer sense of duty that they want to do enough justice for what they were paid to do.

At one end it seems gross mockery of the dead,on the other hand it sounds like a frivolous set motives not of any particular importance to be analyzed or dissected to this extent.Certainly not for us to unravel,atleast when the protagonist of the play seems to be in a state of Sleepy Halo of beatitude and bliss!