Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Wrong turn

As she stopped to catch her breath , she looked back .

The pariah dog had now changed its stance . It was no longer a timid , mangy creature , skulking around with its tail between the legs .

It was transformed into a fearsome canine , snarling and growling, rabid saliva drooling , standing feet apart , ready to strike . She knew she had blundered into its territory .

A vulture sat on the perimeter wall , eyeing the scene with inborn shrewd indifference .

This was an unfrequented road . Empty plots demarcated with low , crumbly , brick walls . Land sharks who had bought the fields , had stopped short of delivering their promise . Ornate lampposts , loomed above like dinosaur skeletons .

The plots were unkempt , weed grew dry and untidy , with garbage strewn .

In the early morning haze , she made out the shapes of lumps sitting in the weedy wasteland . Mattresses, bed sheets and pillows ! Heavens ! Who would now go and dump used bed linen in the middle of nowhere ?

 In a trice , things fell into place . The building , unlike any other , sitting at the end of the dusty road , comprised of a raised cement platform and a high tin roof , blackened with smoke . A small room at the entrance to serve as an office or a guard room .

She was standing outside an open air crematorium .

A sign read in punjabi, and  hindi " This in the end, is all that remains , my friend "w

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