The air was rusty on my tongue. The dewdrops felt freely on my free arm which held the weapon. My ears were numb from the cold and hands frozen, yet they did not seem to stop. I felt as if they moved by some unknown desperate need to just go on. I did not let myself stop digging that part of mud which rested over you. If you could see me right now, I am so sure you would have laughed at my stupid errand. You would make me stop, but, since you were not here, there was nothing stopping me. My mind was occupied by your words in small memories, all in succession, finding it difficult to place the moment. The plough made a sound which was my clue to stop. I felt the dark wooden case of iron. I let the plough fall, and used my hands to get aside the soil from the wooden surface. I kept digging, till all the surface was exposed.
My fingers were bleeding, as I could feel the iron, and paining wherever it touched. They never let me see you leave. What made them think that I was ready to let you go? That too, without looking at your face for the very last time. I opened the case finding blind dead eyes not even staring at me. That was the moment I knew you were gone for good this time. Your face was pale still showing signs of beauty. A pathetic joke that they were the best beautiful features of the dead. They made you wear a stupid white gown. Something you would not really choose to wear, when you would have died laying that way forever. You like green, I would have let you rest in that. My eyes did not leave the view and after what seemed like forever I held your hands and kissed your cheeks, something you have always loved.
If people ever come to know of my visit, they would stare at me, as if I were a devil gone to disturb the dead, but then, you never could have rested if I were not there to dig you out. The stone resting over your head said those words, “Your lifetime has ended today.” I hoped to elongate your stay, but not everything concerned with you was in my hands. I let the blood drip from my fingers staring blankly at the soil, waiting there to join you.