For a departed soul

As she sat down beside the white wrap that covered the lifeless body of her uncle, she didn't know what to think. His feet seemed so small inside it. It was lying so close - a small stretch of her hand and she could have touched it, yet her eyes failed. She dared not to look at the shroud. It was terrifying, to know for the first time that life was so little.

His life seemed so little. He had indeed lived for long - past seventy - so why should anyone worry? The closest of kith and kin could say he had lived long enough and had died content. He had a little smile on his face as he was lying down, waiting for his last respects. So why should I worry? I don't know really. I had never known him all my life, anyway. And I'll never know him again.

He had a chance, didn't he? Why did everyone let him die? After all, it's a life. Doesn't it mean anything? You feel for the birds that often come by your house, but you didn't feel for your husband? Why is anybody talking, really? Why is everyone here, everyone who didn't think of him when he was alive? I'm sorry my brother, I can't stand this. You were his son, yet you let him down too. You must have been his last hope, but you failed. Literally, anyone in this room could have demanded to save him and do the surgery to keep him alive - yet no one did. Why did he have to die that way?

He had four brothers and two sisters, and all of them were there, beside his dead body. But none of you was there for him, as he lay waiting for his death in the ICU for three days. He was silent, but he could still hear and feel, right? I wish he never heard any of your thoughts aloud.

Dear uncle, I'll never know you. I hope you might've loved me even if you had never visited me. I hope you wished no ill will. I don't believe in afterlives, but if you had more wishes, I wish they get fulfilled even in your absence. I pray to the Almighty that your soul shall rest in peace. Amen.

I couldn't bear it. Was it pain? I don't know. I only felt this helplessness, this belittlement of life and death right before me. It was choking me. Tears flowed relentlessly as I struggled for breath through my closed lips and dry throat. I couldn't face anybody and I tried to look small - hugging my feet and covering my tear-stained face with my hand as I stared at a dusty corner of the room that no one noticed. I ran for life when my sister-in-law said we could take rest somewhere inside - I didn't know what I was thinking. I had to let it all out. 

My silent screams echoed in the bedroom as I hugged on to my sister for dear life, away from the shroud and the dead body. I took many deep breaths and looked through the window. Everything was silent. My body felt numb. I was a machine, learning. I'll never know how many trials it will take for me to learn this new algorithm of life. 

There are only a few steps here. 

You're an innocent child but you grow up into an adult. You're young and you work hard to make a fortune. You build a family to spend all that fortune. You become poor and old till nobody wants you. You die.

I wish there was an element of love somewhere in the loop - there is none. History repeats. It's money that rules the world and it's rooted in the families. I remembered my dad. He's a veteran and his fault? He had two girl children. He spent all his money on the dear house his father had built for their family in the olden days. He got himself a few blocks in his heart. So now he's poor, unhealthy and father to two girls - Why should anyone want him anymore? And he was out of his home - the same home that he dreamt of sharing a part with all his brothers and their families.

Does that ring a bell? Look around and check your roots. Look at the outcasts and check the crimes that got 'em off their family trees. It's history, and it repeats. It's the same everywhere. It's an infinite loop - the kind that never meets its exit condition.

That's when I thought of some outliers in this history of the world - some of the biggest and richest families that every born child would know. There should have been some mistake, some kind of bug that occasionally breaks this code and that loop exits in an error 500. I saw my mom - I smiled, I know what that bug is.

I started thinking, hard. I'm a developer and I'm about to start my Masters in Computer Science next year. What else should I invest in, if not in making an AI that increases this bug in families and breaks the infinite loop in history? I can't wait. Now I know my project and purpose.

She rose from her seat and washed her face several times until she was sure that no one would see her tears again. She tried putting on a smile - it was hard. She thought now she was brave enough to face the reality and looked out of her hiding place. There they were - her little cousins, too innocent to not know the weight of that shrouded body in the front room. She rushed to them, hugged them both and sat in-between them, holding their hands. They've come from afar upon notice of the death in our family. They didn't know this place and were looking at different things curiously. My seven-year-old brother asks, "Are they rich?". I was at a loss of words.

I wish I could one day make an AI that stops feeding little brains the philosophy of rich versus poor, black versus white, and girl versus boy, and instead teach the philosophy of seeing people as just fellow human beings, full of life. I should probably work in education. Maybe then I could make an algorithm that learns the loop of love and whenever a little friend tries to call someone ugly, my AI would whisper in his ears, "Please, don't do it".