Tiny Tragedy.

He stood motionless. His puffed eyes gazed silently at her lifeless body in his hands. She resembled a wax doll, whose nascent goodness filled the emptiness of the cemetery. Her bare innocence hurled a barrage of allegations at him.

Why didn’t you do something? 

“I couldn’t. It wasn’t in my hands.”, he pleaded.

She didn’t respond.

He imagined her to be a naughty but lovable child who would run all over their house and garden, harassing her cousins and escaping in her mother’s saree.  He wished she would grow up to be a smart and intelligent child. It was all irrelevant now. Their worst fear had come true. It didn’t matter how long they struggled to bring a life into the womb. It didn’t matter that she moved when they saw her on the screen. It didn’t matter that she had a heartbeat. The truth is that they failed, and they will light the candle today and not on her first birthday.

As the crowd chatted in sorrow, he continued to stare at her wrapped up body and held her tight to his chest. He breathed in broken gasps. His vision blurred. His legs shook. He lost balance and slumped. The surface pierced his knees through his white clothes  He touched her soft cold skin and caressed his hand over her tiny head for one last time. A thousand swords pierced his soul as he covered her in the shroud. His shivering arms moved unwillingly as he placed her in her final resting place.

“Sara.”, He choked. That was the name they thought for her.

 

He pushed a handful of mud, and others filled in. Her unspoken allegations were brushed away under the ground. He sat beside her, helpless, as mother earth took her in protection. As a father, he could only provide her a  farewell. But she was worthy of much, much more.

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