Death in India.

You know there are some things that you don't really want to see. In India we are confronted by these things every day we walk out our front door.
Last night on the way home from picking Andrew up, which we don't usually do, we came across a funeral procession. I have seem remnant's of these before but not actually seen one in process. As we approached I said to Victor "is this what I think it is?" "yes Madame"
The procession was a small one I am told, about 10 men walking along carrying the deceased on a stretcher, adorned with flowers. All I could see was a shock of grey hair, so you knew it was an elderly person. There was someone walking in front scattering flowers along the road, often there is also someone walking along beating a drum, but not today. They were on their way to cremate the body and then in 13 days time the ashes will be scattered in a river or at the beach.
I was very moved by this confronting display of death in India. It is so public. They honour their dead so differently to us. It was amazing to see life just going along as normal whilst the procession took place. Everyday life here I assume.
All this is part of their Hindu faith, believing that you are born again and again and the quality of your rebirth depends on your karma in your former lives.
In some ways it's not unlike us as Christians being worthy of eternal life in what we know as "our Heaven".
I have felt along way from home this week with the loss of a friend who died on Sunday. 47 is too young to die. In fact any age is too young for the family and friends left behind.