The Burial

The rain poured down heavily outside the window, its droplets thrashing against the tin rooftop. Inside, the sound of water from the cracked ceiling could be heard, falling into a steel vessel with slow, rhythmic plinks that echoed through the silent house.

The house was dark, despite the Diwali celebrations happening somewhere beyond its walls. A few diyas still burned near the window, their flames flickering weakly, casting a trembling glow across the room.

Outside, the door that had once been framed with marigold garlands, its petals cascading down its length, now lay broken on the floor, the flowers scattered like forgotten memories.

A strange smell filled the house - something like rust, like iron, thick in the air trapped between the four walls, the kind of smell that clung to the back of the throat and did not leave when you breathed out.

A little girl, no older than seven, wandered into the kitchen, searching for the sweets her mother had made earlier that evening. She opened every container she could reach, but they were nowhere to be found.

Giving up, she walked toward her mother, who lay on the bed, covered with a blanket pulled up to her shoulders. She tugged at it gently, trying to wake her, but her mother did not stir, did not even seem to hear her.

Sighing, she turned away and walked toward the front door. The cold, sticky liquid coating the floor clung to her tiny feet with every step she took, though she paid no attention to it.

She sat down on the front step, hugging her knees, lips pushed into a pout. Her father had promised to take her to the village fair that night. But he was just lying inside, very still - stiller than she had ever seen him, even in his deepest sleep - surrounded by the same liquid that now stained the bottom of her feet.

Disheartened, she reached for the marigold flowers scattered across the floor and began to play with them, twisting their stems between small fingers, humming the same tune her mother used to hum while cooking - soft, slow, familiar.

She did not understand why her parents had been sleeping for so long. She only wished, quietly, that they would wake up soon, so they could still make it to the fair before it closed...