A sigh of relief Where have you been, not been seen. Last, when I was ill, your visit was a relief like medical pill .Messages have been stored, not ignored. Tried in vain to meet, again and again to ease your pain. Now you come to see my relatives, derivatives, Friends and acquaintances. The flowers are the best offering of gratitude in my absence and solitude. But identity with ribbon is more important than the fragrance. Prayers are the best and only means ordained by faith. On my last journey it is privilege to be seen and renew friendship. But it is sad, that I cannot see, hear or feel your presence, What does it matter about your presence or absence, there will be no roll call. Who cares whether I am buried, burnt or be food for the vulture. It is a tradition and culture. Dead are immune to eloquent speeches , heart rendering obituaries. No more do they motivate and serve as an inspiration. Words of consolation are solace and soothing balm to my family at best. The focus is on worth of life, actions .No one will capitalize on my weakness, but emphasize my strengths, as the best individual ever who passed this way. The wife will miss and plant a farewell kiss. The children cry, I do not know why .The grand ones are not violent, but like enemies and adversaries remain silent. The spring of tears will soon dry as it is but natural. The music will drown the hypocritical sounds and the flowers spread the fragrance even though I am out of bound. My carriage decked with ornamental glory,. may at times be a worry .I am not a Pharao to be accompanied by treasures for archival records. The precious things will not be inclusions for fear of disappearance; It is ritual of pleasure to cover me with earth or floral petals that neither touch me or bother anyone. The last post, the sound of bugle, gun salute is reserved for a selected few, not for me, I knew .Every one near and dear will soon disperse. I feel lonely in a confined place of darkness and solitude. I cannot hear those eulogies delivered on the occasion, I am not worthy of a monument in my name as I have not reached the pinnacle of fame. Not even worth a dollar, pound but more like rupee which lost its shine. Quickly and certainly my unwanted belongings will be disposed, Controversies and tussles will figure about little treasures, I could not divide. In a way it will keep my memories alive. I know that in your hearts and minds there always be room to accommodate and spare The sentiments of remembrance or forgetting me are much beyond my sensibilities I do not sigh for any relief. May be, my remains deserve a niche for pilgrimages of my dear ones to profess family bonds of undying, everlasting unity, I am not a saint to be adored, At weddings, birthdays and other ceremonial occasions I have no place, but should consider lucky if a wall has my face.
I treasure happy memories of friends, who encouraged me during my lifetime to change and grow. Those who embraced me with flowers then , I still smell the fragrance and feel the warmth of friendship Prayers are the best , tears do not lay me at peace and rest. Continuing my path of good work is the real test. The last journey is a destiny for all, it is call none can stall, The rich, powerful must also fall Nelson Lopes Chinchinim
