Arundati...The Star!
You have no name, sister. I will name you, star, the star that burned bright until it exploded out of existence. Arundati – my star. The man who buried you in an unmarked grave said that you only had on a pair of silver anklets and a small silver ring. He buried you naked. What a way to die, sister? And what a way to be buried? No one to grieve for you, no one to pay their last respects, except a few of us unknown women, who came and lit some candles in the strong wind. We were too late to even give you some clothes, to be buried in.
We tried to piece together your past, what your bruised and broken body said. We tried to understand you behind the violence that exploded around you and took your life. There were many stories, sister, but none of them told by you. We are ashamed of the silence; we are ashamed that there was no public outcry. We are ashamed of our own inadequate rushed attempt to light a candle on your grave.
I will name you Arundati, my star. Hope you have some peace now, sister. Hope you can forgive us.
Sarala
