Page 2 of Sumanika

I cried.

Cried louder.

My screams penetrated through the thick silence, waiting to be filled with the smoke of a live burn, unable to reach the deaf ears around me.

My soul hid somewhere deep, trembling and wheezing, flooding my mind with memories of Nandani, Daadisa, and everyone who was, and even those who weren’t, my home.

I didn't want to die. Not like this. What was my mistake?

“Please, I am begging you, please, leave me, please,” my cries only grew louder, my throat burning, the ropes leaving marks on my wrists. But their souls were darker than the devils.

They do this and still ask why cataclysm happens.

“Please, someone help, please, leave me,” the base of my hair filled with sweat, noticing his father grabbing the burning wood and lightening someone alive and dead.

I hastened, stretching myself. My ankles grazed against the jute, my pleads worrisome—feared.

But amid the noise, I heard the fire breaking under me; the smoke erupting, clouding, hiding, forcing, enveloping, and finally welcoming me.

“Please, I am begging you, please, do not do it.” I screamed, shattered.

The glasses are lucky—at least they get picked up and thrown comfortably. I was being crushed, silenced, and burnt.

My eyes closed. Misery surrounds me. My body was giving up, and my senses were failing.

Yet my soul screamed.

To be free.

“Please,” I shrieked.“Ahhhhhh,” heat dragging me,“Leave me please,” I begged. Hardly audible.“I will kill you; leave me!” I even threatened.

But no one.

No one was alive.

If god loved the dead more than the alive, why did he make breathing so divine?

The sky, the trees, the dawn—everything was watching. The winds, the hiding sun, and the impatience of birds signify nature’s crying.

And people—they stood dead. Enjoying.

I screeched,“Please, someone save me, please,” one last time before the coughs clogged me, smoke puffed my chest, and flames shortened my breath.

One side of the pyre had caught the fire. My braid lay inches away. My body numbed, feeling the heat searing in the mound’s bottom.

It hurt,“I am begging you, please leave me. I will do as you all say. I will never show my face to anyone.” But I only screamed.

I screamed with everything I had.“Pleaseeeeee,”

No one listened, so I had to prepare for my heavenly adobe.

My clothes would catch fire, my skin would melt, my braid burn, a symphony of yelps would begin, and thunder of screams would erupt, scorching my cheeks, taking my eyes, thinning me to bones, and finally claiming my soul.

But.

“What the hell is happening here?” a loud voice said, sending chills down my spine. It gave birth to my hopes, a living me from my grave.

It seemed too late.

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