236, 237 of 15,400

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It seems to be much more difficult the second day. I slept in the same spot as my mom. I wore her nighty. I draped her blanket. And today I want her back.

Anyway, it is what it is. I know that it's selfish to wish for a dear departed to return. One must wish them well in their journey or rest or the end.

Yesterday at the cremation, the priest did not let me light the pyre. How many people take ownership of your mother in the name of "knowing stuff" that you don't? In this case, some scriptures that I can't even ascertain whether he was saying them right or wrong.

I am sad. But I am not suicidal. Yet, as the fire burned, with my mum under all those logs of wood, I was transfixed. It was very mesmerizing. I would have liked to slowly, softly slip into it. It had the comfort of my mother's lap. I came from her. It only makes sense that I return to her as well.

I now understand why Sanjay Leela Bhansali maybe mounted the jauhar scene that way. You don't see fire as fire. You see it as a doorway.

Anyway,  nothing happened and I am here now.

I will have a bath and then have tea.



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