As the bullock cart negotiated a curve, a vast graveyard greeted them. “Here,” said the old fortune-teller, “we have reached our destination.“ And he started singing.
Reshman had been hearing that song eversince her childhood. Whenever her father shifted to another village, he always sang the same song on seeing a graveyard. She very well knew that he does not sing that song for those who are lying dead but started humming because of the proximity of habitation.
Why does every village have a graveyard on its outskirts? She just could not understand. She tried to give it a deep thought and yet failed to find the answer. And when the mind freezes the lips tend to open. And so it happened with her. “Why does every village start with a graveyard?” she asked her father.
“Oh, you kid,” he said, “you always ask strange questions. I’ve never given it a thought”.
“And how would you,” cut in her mother, “the crazy lines of the palms don’t allow you time for anything else.”......................................