As Mad as a Hatter: A Short Story Collection by Catherine Stovall

Author:Catherine Stovall [Stovall, Catherine]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-10-25T04:00:00+00:00

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First, she bathed in water that had been peppered with flower petals and spices, and then she donned her gown. Alka came with a jeweled wreath of blossoms to rest upon her hair and the weight of her jewelry pulled at her neck, wrists, and fingers as she bent to accept the gift. All the women who served her in her moment of triumph over death were strong, their tears held back and their sorrows swallowed in her presence.

When at last she had said her final prayers, Daya stepped out into the chill of an early morning. Along the side of the walk, others waited. At her appearance, they began to play instruments and the sound of the sacred bhajan hymns to honor the dead swirled around her.

The procession grew as she strolled through the village and the people of their tribe fell in behind her. The drums mimicked the crazy beat of her heart as she fought to remain in control of the emotions building inside her as the burial site came closer. Step by step, her bare feet sank into the soft ground and carried her closer to where Raji lay. Breathing deep, she braced herself with a smile and her faith.

“Now, I pray for strength,” she whispered, so no one could hear her above the music entwining around the large group. “Do not let me falter. I will not dishonor my husband or our families.”

Upon entering the place where the tribe buried their dead, Daya felt a shiver climb up her spine. Within a hole in the ground, her true love lay, frozen by the cruel hand of death. His soul would be born again, but without hers to join him, she would never know his heart again.

Before the interior of her husband’s resting place could come into view, Daya stopped and removed her beautiful jewels, bracelets, and rings. In the true spirit of what she was prepared to do, she wished to give up the worldly possessions and free her spirit from the anchor they created. Sisters, friends, aunts, and even her mother-n-law stepped forward to accept the gifts. Each one hugged her and gave her blessings as they kissed Daya’s cheek and wished her well. She returned each kiss, embrace, and kind word. Feeling her inner self lighten for a moment, she smiled brightly, but that fleeting joy did not last.

After she had rid her body of all but her sari, she stepped forward and stood at the edge of the grave, looking down. Though her expression was serene with her resolution, the tears still traced down her cheeks and her limbs trembled. Her mind coaxed her body, It is time. The Ritual must take place now. The sun has almost risen. This is right, this is good. This is what Raji would want, and what I want as well.

Never, not even for a moment, did she think of the future. Not the slightest inclination of what the moment might mean to any other person later tugged at her tormented mind.

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