Amongst The Living Dead

I mourned a person I did not know.

I mourned a person I did not meet, ever. Yet he made his presence felt.

It was 6 in the evening, when I entered the garden. Kids playing - fighting more often than getting along. Women sitting a circle - talking and venting . The healthy ones walked in circles - swiftly as if to catch a bus. The old ones sat alone - all gloomy.

Nothing odd. Nothing extra - ordinary. Just some resemblence of jungle within the concrete.

I resumed my search of an empty bench, which I was lucky to find. I am currently in the process of curbing my addiction - the smartphone. My trip to the Garden had its motive.

For my exercise — I had my gym. For the walk — The treadmill awaited at home. But I had not inserted in my schedule — a blank space to do nothing. I was recently made aware of my self inflicted condition, albeit politely — and thus my trip to the garden was specifically meant as a rehab session. 30 minutes on a Saturday evening wasn't enough — but it was a healthy start towards recovery.

The struggle was real. Like a true addict, the first few minutes were intolerable. My hands trembled, my brain ordered me to reach for either one of my phones. For a second, I even felt the phantom vibration of the phone - on the verge of being compelled to take the phone out and scroll my brains off with trendy reels, pop up ads for a far away destination, unwanted flimsy products with salivating discounts, free delivery on cardboard tasting pizza or the momentary joy of donating  to save the elephants in Assam - a species that has survived ages . But I pulled myself together. Told myself, no one calls anyone on a Saturday evening - And that my mind and my phone were just playing tricks on me.

I needed restraint. So I put my palms under my buttocks - pinned them steady. To anyone who watched me doing this would have thought it was a yoga pose or I that was fool. No one bothered.

I also needed a distraction now that I had my hands busy - doing nothing. As I looked around I must have noticed smoke — because it hovered over an under construction building with its red-brown mossy bricks exposed. I traced the smoke to a chimney. And it immediately drifted my thoughts to the old industrial area where chimney lets out unbreathable toxic fumes. But these huge chimneys were strategically constructed on outskirts of the new city (Navi Mumbai). It was then I realised — it was the smoke from an adjacent building where the chimney stood. It shared a huge wall with the public garden. Also — a senior citizens club — and a meditation center. All built on the landfilled open sewage.

The chimney was a short one — not more than 2 storey tall. There were 6 buildings surrounding it which were no less than 5 storey tall. Soon — the smoke spread throughout the garden too. I am sure it must have entered the homes and kitchen of the adjacent buildings.

I tried to look around if anyone else bothered — if anyone else was affected.
None of them were. Everyone did everything as efficiently as they previously did. like routine daily chores.

The skies darkened — whether it was the smoke or the setting sun — I don't know. someone must have flicked on the lights too. My eyes caught a board near the Chimney - painted all white with red letters.

The board haunted me — It was a crematorium.

I never returned to that lush garden again.