Two funerals...two men...
They were as different as their funerals were.

His was a typical hindu funeral. 13 days - his sons performed all the prescribed rituals.
His was a simple funeral. No rituals. A traditional pyre on a river bank.

He died in the city he lived.
He died in the villiage like he wanted to.

He hadn't seen his family in many years. He made his choices.
He had just spent time with his entire family. Visited all his kids' and grandkids' homes. Watched football everynight with his grandson.

He died among strangers - they were his friends.
He died alone. I think that was how he wanted to go.

He was in his middle years...his kids had just got married.
He lived up to a ripe old age...he played with his great grandson.

Maybe he died doing what he wanted to. We will never know.
He died doing exactly what he wanted to. What he lived for.

Nobody really mourned his death. There was some sadness. Just some.
He is missed by soo many people. We always thought him immortal.

They were both good men.
They were both loved.