Discover the Writer in You

It was a white ambulance with a red warning light. We were following it for quite some time through the early morning traffic of Delhi.  It carried someone who was very dear to us. The van entered the cremation ground and went straight to platform No 15. The air was heavy with the smell of burning human flesh. Two male medical assistants, clad in blue PPE slithered out of the back door. One of them peeped inside and pushed open a rectangular freezer. Carefully, they pulled out a grey, laminated body bag which was sealed and tagged. They placed the bag on top of a wooden pyre which was already there. ‘Who is the elder among you?’ a young pandit asked indifferently, unpacking at the same time a sleek, cardboard box that contained a pack of incense sticks. My brother inched forward. ‘Can we have one last look at her?’ he said in a feeble voice. ‘Look, as per the rules, it is not allowed. She died of COVID. We can’t take a chance.’ My brother wanted to plead further but I softly placed my