Third Blog 

DEATH is always a matter of seriousness . 

When i was young , i didn’t get the concept of death . I was always a type of kid who didn’t do what he was told to. And like every other kid i loved my grandma .I sometimes asked her , ” ma! Where do people go after dying ? ” and she’d always reply with a brief pause , as if she recalled something, then with a smile she’d point towards the sky and say ,” god promotes good people to be stars .” . I questioned her that if she were promoted ,would she be able to see me from there, she’d laugh on this and question , ” will you come and wave to me , every night ? ” . I always answered YES !

A few years later , I was 10 years old maybe , my grandma passed away , I didn’t cry , it wasn’t like I didn’t try but I couldn’t cry . I was just sitting there numb . Watching her getting promoted .

For about 6 months,after her funeral I regularly went to my terrrace,  waved my hands like my life was depended on it , hoping that she’d see me . I was getting desperate. Unaware of the fact that all this effort was fading in nowhereness . I used to think ,” did she see me ,yesterday ?” ; “when will I see her again?” ; ” is she taking her pills?” .

Couple of more months passed but my routine was to point . I went to my terrace every day and waved . It was a Tuesday night , I had my dinner, and went to my terrace,there was something gloomy about that night, it was my birthday . As soon as I reached my terrace and started waving , I started weeping , tears fell down my eyes all by themselves, no efforts needed . It was the day when I had to realise .  My weeping became crying , my caring mom immediately galloped upstairs to the terrace . she ran towards me assuming that I was bit or injured . She asked ,” What happened , Umang ?”. My answer was ,”why didn’t grandma wave back.”    
That incident made a dent on my conscience . it made me realise that once you’re gone you ain’t coming back for no one , death knows no ties ,no bonds . on a serious note it made me more quite and forgiving , nothing is permanent .


Author: Umang Dwivedi

I am from India . I like to express myself through writing.

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