WHO WILL CRY FOR ME

WHO WILL CRY FOR ME? 
        The body was kept wrapped up in a new saree, cotton swabs in the nostrils, both great toes tied together and surrounded by flowers and incense sticks. It was a fifty year old lady who had died last night perhaps,due to a massive heart attack and her only unmarried daughter was sitting, bending  over, feebly crying. The whole village had arrived to express  their condolences. 
     I trooped in with a few women, sat surrounding the body and wailed out loud and clear. I was the head of a group of women in a village of Tamilnadu who were hired to cry out loud, quoting all that the dead person had done for her family and friends. Mostly it was a pattern with words and crocodile tears flowed  out of our eyes with vapour from the incense stick stinging our nose and eyes. 
     On and off we stopped to regain our breath when a few people close to the lady  on arrival,started wailing loudly, as our cries also became febble after sometime. Then we started again when they stopped. as though a switch was pressed. Our job was to cry till the body was removed for cremation. 
     I saw through from the corner of my eyes my grand daughter twelve years old sitting in a corner and drawing pictures in the mud using a worn out stick, with not a care in the world. She was used to these dramas and took it in the stride and I thought she wished that her grandmother had more such episodes, as the money I got fetched her more sweet items to eat and sometimes a good dress to wear. 
   The only time I really cried was when my widowed daughter died, when my grand daughter was five years old and she looked at me at that time,as though it was all unreal and a fake. My group of crying women made a good show ,gratis for me.
       After the body was removed,we had our lunch with my grand daughter sitting near me. I saw the men folk all entering a side room and coming out inebriated. It had become a usual  habit and pattern in the villages; the men unable  to cry, drowning their intense sorrow with country made liquor; a few  men were unrecognizable and were perhaps new comers or passer by to share the spoils. 
    As my grand daughter  walked with me along the edge of the field, lush with paddy she asked “Whom did you cry for, grandma”. I looked into her curious eyes and told the truth “ I don’t know”.  “What do you want to buy  today, my sweet heart ”.She remained quiet and uninterested. Both walked along silently and reached the market. She was a bit pensive and seem to watch me, trudging along.      “Are you all right”  I asked as she turned her head and I could see a few drops brimming her eyes. I stopped and asked “ what is bothering you. Why are you crying“?                                                           “I don’t want you to cry like this and buy something to make me happy “. I raised my brows and looked at her piercing eyes . She was adamant and refused when I requested her to buy what she liked. We trudged home and she sat in a corner, far away. Suddenly she blurted out“ You won’t be there to cry when I die”. I sat looking at her shocked. It floored me with a punch. I groped for words to express my anguish. I got up and sat near her “ Don’t worry I will be there with you always”. “With your crocodile tears” she shouted. I got angry and emotional and asked “Who do you think will cry for me”?                                                        “ Your friends ,for gratis” she retorted.     “ I will not. I saw you crying when my mother died…  the same pattern and words….Not one bit of  sorrow in your face”. 
       I could not sleep that night. She had spoken the truth. I had lost all my sorrow, crying like this for years. It was my livelihood.  I did not know any other job. But I could not continue like this for the sake of my educated growing grand daughter. She felt that I was  not real , a fake and cheated everybody with my crying. It was a stupid job to do. To cheat in front of the dead and acting out for money. 
       Next day I went and joined the 100 days cleaning job of the panjayat union. She came after school and saw me doing my job and smiled . She waited till I finished and then said “ we will go to the market to buy sweets . I  can tell my friends now that you have a decent honest job and not cheating others  by crying . I will also get a good job like this“ she hugged me and then we trotted to the market happily laughing.