New Zealand cemeteries are very different from the rest of the world. Elsewhere graves lie serene and somber, but in New Zealand, especially those graves of the Islanders, are curiously explicit. As I walked through a graveyard in Auckland, I saw one with a miniature fire truck, another with a helmet, all explaining to the passerby what the person had done throughout his life. And then I froze. I saw one that got me puzzled. It was a plain grave, no fire trucks or racing cars, but what made me stop was that it had no dates engraved on it.

They all schooled together, grew up as one, spun tops, flew kites, played marbles, and in the playgrounds of school, followed more sophisticated sports like cricket, hockey, football, as seasons went by.

They hurt their knees playing kabaddi, fought each other on piggyback, then got up and embraced one another.

And finally, when school and college came to an end, they parted, became doctors, teachers, lawyers, chartered accountants, some successful, some moderately so.

She lay on the ventilator, as fervent prayers went up from hundreds, in plea chains and waves, outside same hospital, “Save her!” they prayed, and up in heaven God listened to their prayers even as He looked at her, and saw a smile of ecstatic joy on her face.

 “Oh God,” she whispered as she looked into heaven and felt an incredible sense of peace and joy, “Oh God I learnt about heaven, I spoke about heaven but I never knew it was so like this! Let me enter my Lord and my God!”

It’s not a second or third wave of the virus, but a wave of sorrow that envelops us today!

If you feel sad and depressed right now, and can’t understand why, then join billions of others who feel the same, and why not? Right now, most of us are staring at the executioner’s axe, not knowing when cruel virus will strike, how it will, and who it will bring down. Day after day, we hear of loved ones dying, that we have begun dreading the phone ring, just as many decades ago we shivered when we heard the midnight cry, “Telegram!” outside our doors.

“A servant who serves excellently from his whole heart with due courage and humility is never a servant, but a master of his work!” ― Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

It was an ordinary brown paper packet that arrived with the delivery man. The order was for a plate of vadas, some sambar and chutney. The package did not lend too much hope to the taste of what lay inside, but for the price paid, one did not expect regal packing nor exquisite flavour to food just meant to fill one’s belly.

The packet was opened, the first bite made, yes indeed, with some fear and trepidation!