It is a cold dank day with the sky the color of a soiled mop. The doorbell keeps ringing and the house slowly fills up. My whole family, near and far relatives, friends, and neighbors. My family looks red-eyed, as though they have not slept last night. I wonder why. Did we have any event last night, that extended to this morning? I am not able to remember much these days. Maybe that explains this crowd.
I am lying on the floor. I feel someone tugging at my bangles, removing my chain, unclipping my earrings. Maybe I need to undergo surgery. I know they do not allow jewelry in the operation theatre. That is why my family has come- they just want to be with me. My heart warms up with love.
There are people all over the house. Should I try and get up and make them some tea? I wonder. A relative comes over and stuffs some cotton into my nostrils. And some into my ears too. I catch a whiff of the scent from my favorite incense sticks. I can breathe despite the cotton. I hear people talking in muffled voices. So, I can hear as well. It is not my nature to eavesdrop, but when I hear my name in the conversation, I pay attention. Wow, they are extolling my virtues, but why are they talking about me in the past sense?
The same relative now ties up my big toes. I feel a bit embarrassed having my cracked feet on display. I wish I had not put off that pedicure appointment. Soon people start placing flowers on me. I am going to start sneezing any moment. Someone tell them I am allergic to flowers!
The doorbell rings again and some strangers come in. They take me to a truck. Some people from the house board the truck and we set off. Through the neighborhood I live in, the markets I shop in, the park I go to for my morning walk- that boy is still sitting on the park bench and studying. Just like every morning.
The truck stops. Have we reached the hospital? The men ask my family if I have a prosthetic limb, a pacemaker, or any device implanted in my body. My family says no. They move me out and put me on a conveyor belt leading to a closed chamber. It is a cold dank day with the sky the color of a soiled mop. The temperature around me keeps rising. A single tear rolls down my cheek and I say goodbye.

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