They left me startled and alone. I went to the people of all the sects but they had the same
reply. Finally, I went to the chief of the village to seek his help. The old chief told me he
wouldn't interfere in religious matters. However, he allowed me to bury Dewaia on the top of a
haunted mountain near the village. That black mountain was famous for its witches. In the
evening, alone and full of sorrow, I buried my old friend under a weathered aged tree. I looked
up at the sky and asked God, “Why do innocent people suffer too much in Your world?” There
was no answer but silence, the question was to be answered later in a strange but just way. I sank
into a deep sorrow and felt a desire, a powerful desire to flee and disappear from that village. I
felt so forlorn, completely overwhelmed by the loss of my friend. No shoulders to cry on, so sad,
so solitary, so distressed! The irritating silence haunted me. It listened and watched but never
spoke. That night, I left the village and came back to my home in the town.
Many years later, I read the news of heavy rains causing a terrible flood in our village. I
decided to visit. The road to the village was blocked by several feet of water, but after days of
struggle, I reached it. The entire village had disappeared under water. The water roared like the
river wild. I had never witnessed a worse flood. People had fled in search of shelter. There was
nothing left of the village. No fields bordered the flood water. A beautiful song from a lark
resonated overhead. The bird flew and sang over the haunted rock where I buried Dewaia. To my
surprise, that rock was still there, and from a distance I could see the grave of Dewaia. It was
undisturbed. The town had vanished from the floods, yet my dear friend’s grave remained
untouched. The birds twittered under the branches on the tree next to that solitary grave. A cook
March breeze moved through the wet leaves. The evening moon radiated its silver glow over the
earth. Sounds of village life hushed forever. Around Dewaia’s grave were wildflowers. I stayed
there for a while by Dewaia’s place and then made my way back home. Out in the distance I
could see Dewaia dancing and singing the song of ecstasy. He had searched for God all his life,
but all along God was with him.
The End
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