Six men marched ahead. Three on each side, supporting the casket draped in the tri-colour. A few thousand people watched in awe. Stunned to silence, a pack of youngsters stood fighting back their tears. The six men proceeded towards the crematorium as the trumpets blared at the back. Slowly the coffin was lowered in breath-taking formation. They had practiced these a 1000 times, but when it came to a real human-being, one of them, it was different. Slowly the two men at the back lifted the flag and moved forward. A moment later the men at the center, like a pair of synchronized swimmers, moved forward. Finally the two men at the front picked up the front end. They moved in perfect co-ordination to form a perfect triangular fold of the flag. The general received the flag from the men, turned around and marched forward. The men again in two rows behind him marched synchronized. The general inched closer towards an old lady, at the front of the crowd. She stood there awestruck looking at the men in uniform march towards her. It had been just six months. Her son, in similar uniform had gotten into the train, waving his hands as the train moved. The 6-foot general standing in front of her, brought her back to reality. Her hands trembled as she received the national flag. A single tear rolled down her cheek. She lifted her head to look at the general. A proud mother she was. Beside her, stood a young girl, tears in her eyes. She could still recall, that day 20 years ago, when she stood beside her mother, receiving the flag. How Ironic "Like father Like son" her mother used to tease him, the way he used to sit in front of the TV watching their favorite movie. She felt a chill run down her spine, as she looked at her 1 year old son clinging on to his dad, unaware of what was going on around him.
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