𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 | 𝟏𝟖+

CHAPTER 36

𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂 -𝙈𝙐𝙍𝘿𝙀𝙍 & 𝙑𝙊𝙄𝙇𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙀𝙎

"Ram ram sathya hai... Ram Ram Sathya hai, " the mourners chanted, their voices rising and falling with the weight of sorrow as Prithvi, Suraj, Deepak, and his brother Sanjay bore Padma's deathbed on their shoulders.

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the somber hum of grief.

Prithvi's face remained stoic, a stark contrast to the tear-streaked faces around him.

He did not weep, nor did he betray any hint of sadness. His expression was hard, his eyes fixed on the path ahead.

The village watched him, some in awe of his composure, others whispering among themselves about his unyielding demeanor.

While the others mourned, Prithvi's mind was a tumult of dark thoughts. The memory of Padma's last moments flickered in his mind, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The weight of her death, and the truth behind it, was a burden he carried alone. Only he knew the full extent of Padma's machinations and the lengths he had gone to end them.

Yet, as he walked through the village, surrounded by the echoes of grief, he gave nothing away.

The procession reached the cremation ground, where the pyre awaited. The air was thick with the smell of burning wood and the acrid scent of smoke.

Padma's body, already half- burned by the flame caused by the accident, lay atop the pyre.

Prithvi, as the eldest grandson, along with Suraj, Deepak, and Sanjay, carefully placed Padma's body on the pyre, ensuring it was arranged correctly for the final rites.

The priest stepped forward, his voice solemn as he began the rituals.

Prithvi was handed a pot filled with water. He balanced it on his left shoulder, the weight of tradition and duty heavy upon him.

With each step, water dripped from a small hole in the pot, symbolizing the soul's journey from the earthly realm to the afterlife.

"Ram nam satya hai... Ram nam satya hai..." the mourners chanted, their voices blending with the crackling of the fire.

Prithvi took the first round around the pyre, each step measured and deliberate.

The priest chanted sacred verses, guiding Prithvi through the ritual. The second round followed, the water continuing to drip, marking the earth in a circle of farewell.

By the third round, the chanting grew louder, almost drowning out the sound of the flames. Prithvi's expression remained stoic, his face a mask of calm resolve.

The weight of the pot seemed to lighten with each step, the burden of grief replaced by the cold acceptance of duty.

As Prithvi completed the third round, the pot broke, its shards falling to the ground.

This signaled the finality of the ritual, representing the end of the earthly ties. The chanting reached a crescendo, a rhythmic dirge accompanying the crackling fire.

"Ram nam satya hai... Ram nam satya hai..."

Prithvi took the torch handed to him by the priest. The flames flickered, reflecting in his eyes as he stepped closer to the pyre.

With a steady hand, he touched the torch to the remaining unburned part of Padma's body.

The flames roared to life, consuming what was left.

The chanting continued, a rhythmic dirge accompanying the crackling fire. Prithvi stood back, watching as the fire engulfed the pyre completely.

The priest continued the final prayers, his voice steady and strong. Prithvi's grip tightened on the torch, his knuckles white.