Chapter 19: Funeral
The fresh winter breeze calmed the mind. Fayez was spending some time with Arif and Sumi. Their adorable faces stirred the father within him.
A certain truck returned to the estate, carrying dozens of people — people who had lost everything in life, but who still clung to a flicker of hope.
The truck came to a stop, but the pounding hearts of the men and women only beat louder.
To ease their anxiety, the truck halted at the factory entrance.
"At last, the work is done," Jakaria said, rubbing his tired neck.
People stepped down. The destination was in front of them — so their feet didn't stop.
"Our work isn't over yet. We need to bring food," Mashrafi said, his concern valid.
Fayez stepped out after hearing the truck's horn.
"You brought what I asked for?"
A simple nod answered him.
"Let's head back."
"How many people did you say?" Roshni asked, surprised.
"A hundred, perhaps."
She couldn't hide her shock, but seeing his calm gaze, she didn't argue.
"You should know — the grain we have can only last ten days."
Fayez expected that.
"How long will the cooking take?"
"Four to five hours."
He nodded.
"Sadly, you'll have to wait for hours to fill your bellies."
They expected that too.
"Another thing," Fayez added, his tone flat, "we discovered a bloody pond filled with corpses. It would be best to give them a funeral."
His voice carried no emotion, but all drowsy eyes turned sharp at once.
"So you need our help?" Mashrafi asked.
"No. I also need the help of those you brought with you."
"Will they help?" Mashrafi was skeptical.
"It's their choice."
"But what about the ritual process?" Monish raised a valid concern.
"That's fair. Most of them are Muslim — just follow Islamic traditions."
An argument broke out, but Fayez's decision remained final. Mr. Monish snorted. Even if there were Hindus among the dead, who would cut the wood or buy the expensive items needed for their rituals?
The morning sun hid behind white clouds. The mist clung to the grass beneath their feet. At first glance, it was just another winter day.
But the unusual redness of the pond screamed that this winter was unlike any other.
The foul stench of corpses hit the truck from meters away. But to people who had lived with filth and death, it didn't matter. They had once thought they were the worst sufferers of war — that illusion shattered the moment they saw the pond ahead, filled with blood and flesh.
Scavengers feasted on the remains. Worms filled the corpses, devouring them slowly.
The men, women, and children once mentioned were no longer recognizable. All that remained were skulls with scraps of flesh, and worms crawling inside — as if it were their home.
A funeral — or at least a proper burial — had to take place. But how? That question hung in the cold air.
"How the hell are we supposed to deal with this?" someone asked. Many were terrified. Some were eerily quiet, as if they'd already seen worse. A few fell to the ground and vomited.
"Standing here won't help. Let's get to work," Fayez said coldly.
He and Sadat lifted a corpse from the pond's bank and carried it to the nearby grassland.
"Can't we just cover the pond with soil? Look at those guys — they're shaking. Are we going to handle the entire thing ourselves?" Sadat asked, pushing down his hesitation.
"Look at this body we're carrying. He was a human, like us. He had a family. A single bullet destroyed all of that. We don't know what he went through. There are countless bodies like his — oppressed, tortured, humiliated, and killed. Don't you think they at least deserve a proper funeral? Some respect for their sacrifice?"
"...Sorry for being a coward," Sadat said, placing the body down.
"There are many who can't handle the gruesome scene. What do we do with them?" Mr. Liton asked.
"Let them dig the graves. It's better they do that than witness this."
The sun had risen in the east, warming the land. The winter wind and sunshine made the atmosphere feel pleasant — but the reality was anything but.
Hundreds of men stood in rows to give a final goodbye. In front of them lay dozens of bodies — though at first glance, they didn't even look human. Skeletons with scraps of flesh, covered in the soil of Bengal and its earthworms.
They wanted a proper funeral. But this was anything but proper.
Under Mashrafi's lead, the funeral was carried out in haste. People stood in silence, staring at the corpses. Many were reminded of their own loved ones lost in the war.
The burial was shabby. Technically, the bodies should've been wrapped in clean white cloth. But the little textile they had couldn't be wasted.
As the sun shone brightly overhead, the funeral came to an end. The brave sons of Bengal returned to their mother's lap — finally at peace.
At lunchtime, people gathered together. The children were just happy to have something to eat — their world was simple, untouched by memories of the past or fear of the future.
The women were unsure what fate awaited them — but determined to face it. As for the men, though shaken by what they had witnessed, they were still thankful to the Almighty for surviving the war.
"Why aren't you eating? Don't tell me you're still shaken by that?"- Fahmid was the one to break the silence.
With an unfocused gaze, he said, "No. Just planning about the future, that's all."
"Why are you so tense then, Things are going smoothly, chill out."
"Too smoothly!" Fayez drifted his gaze to two little kids probably siblings- one running with some toy or something and the other chasing her behind.
The subtle scene broke a smile on Fayez's face also making him aware of his responsibility.
That night, sleeping was a bit mess. They all knew how to manage it. Children stayed at home, whereas women at the factory and men in tents.
Despite all the turmoil of the day and discomfort of the night, their eyes filled with anticipation for the next day.
______
'6 o'clock. Huh! Today's going to be a tough day for sure.'
The day had only just begun, so the story. But it's good to finish it here now.