“Stand still Honey”, his beloved aunt orders his nephew as she wraps an inches-tape around his tanned wrist, then she jots a few numbers down.
“Finally, we are done here” says his aunt Gurmeet as she unwraps the inches-tape off his wrist.
“What colour you prefer?” She chuckles as she knew he would utter one of the only four names he learned at kindergarten.
“Black, Honey demands.”
“Great !!! then you will get to wear this Black shirt on your coming birthday” his Aunt promises.
“According to the customs he must wear clothes brought by his Mother’s family ” Honey’s Grandfather reminds.
Gurmeet remembered her promise as well as the tradition.
She comes out of the crowd, holding the black shirt unwrapped, dresses his darling nephew in that black shirt.
His grandfather takes him in his Shivering arms, clinches to his chest, moves towards the door
and all the relatives follow him to the graveyard.