The cries rise to a crescendo just as the casket is lowered into a pit. A chorus breaks out in lament against a stifling air heavy with the scent of grief. Thunder clouds clash in fury, as though the sky itself were answering prayers. I realize I’m standing above somebody’s grave and last night’s dinner rises in my throat. I make an attempt to swallow, but the song is full of sorrow; it gnaws at me. The funeral band persists despite the pouring rain. It occurs to me that I’ve never attended a silent funeral. Grief can be so loud.
Sukanya Menon is a writer from India. Through her writing, she attempts to explore the surreal, the unexplainable anguish, the deep, dark, and everything in between. Find Sukanya on Twitter @menon_sukanya and on Instagram @sukanyamenon.