I fluttered open my eyes when I felt the warmth and intensity of the sunlight bursting through my window. I sit up straight and my eyes fell on the calendar on my bedside table. It's 3rd August. Ahh Raksha Bandhan! The festival where eternal bond of brother and sister is celebrated. They say festivals bring joy into our lives. Do they really?
The sun came up today. The empty roads too remain unchanged ever since the lockdown was announced. The vaccine for COVID-19 is still in process. So pretty much everything is the same yet so different.
I get up and close the curtains so that the damn sun doesn't bother me. I got showered and wore my black dress from Forever 21 with lace sleeves. It was my Rakhi gift apparently. I went into the garden and saw my aunts and uncles wearing N95 masks like myself. Only 15 people were invited. Rules!
My mother and father held my hand as we walked together to the nearby cemetery. The priest was already there with the coffin. I stood near the now empty grave as the priest said prayers to which I zoned out. Before sprinkling holy water, my mother put a picture of Shri Krishna that he used to carry everywhere inside the coffin. After her, I went and took his cold hand and tied the World's Best Big Brother rakhi to his wrist. I gently touched his cheek and said, "Happy Raksha Bandhan Bhai. I'll see you again." And finally I let the tears fall.
