WONDER WHERE THEY ALL GO?
Where do they all go? It was the question that intrigued me as I stood watching the casket of my grandma being lowered into the grave. I, as a child having lost my life’s only anchor, was crying my heart out. But as soon as this question gripped my brain I stopped crying. Surely, it is not possible for someone to come out of nowhere and go into nowhere. Surely there has to be a destination. Quest to solve this riddle, I learn has made saints out of men. As I grew up, the question lost its sheen as I busied myself growing up. It was not forgotten. I didn’t know that it was lurking somewhere within me till it surfaced with its full intensity as I stood at the crematorium on a Sunday witnessing another customary 'send-off'. Where do they all go from here? As I stood watching the near and dear ones of the departed, somber in sorrow, I also noticed few who m...