The Fourth Candle

Eric Johansson is one of the richest men alive. A Swedish billionaire with huge fortune in shipping and real estate, had three of his four children killed in the mayhem on Easter Day at Colombo 2019 where they had gone on vacation.  A day after, Eric with his wife and surviving son, Elias, went to the local church in Stockholm for a prayer service. Surely deep in his heart he would be hoping that after Crucifixion of his children, for no crime of theirs, there might also be a Resurrection even if momentarily as it happened with the Good Lord.

This one is for Elsa, my eldest one.

Pretty, pretty as can be, My Love.

So gentle, so lovely.

Oh Lord, why did it have to be my Elsa?

She loved all and hated none.

On a holiday she had gone,

Never to return.

I light a candle for thee, My Love Elsa.

This one is for Emma,

Smart, smarter than most, My Love

So kind, so humble.

Oh Lord, why did it have to be my Emma?

She loved all and all loved her.

On a holiday she had gone,

Never to return

I light a candle for thee, My Love Emma.

This one is for Emil,

My Little Big Swede.

So small yet so strong.

Oh Lord, why did it have to be my Emil?

He had hardly seen the world.

On a holiday he had gone,

Never to return.

I light a candle for thee, My Love Emil.

I also light a fourth candle,

This one for the person I know not.

The person who blew himself

Taking my three loved ones.

With so much sorrow in my heart

Have no place left for hatred.

Why did you do it?

What cause could be so overwhelming?

To blow off yourself and other innocents,

Must surely be something personal and powerful,

As personal and powerful as my love for my children.

All I can say on Easter Day

Forgive Him O Lord, for he knows not what he has done.

I light a candle for thee O Unknown Soldier,

May you find in afterlife what you sought in this.

Amen.

Around the same time in the Cinnamon Island, the police got leads and almost all led to Suleyman Ahmed’s three storied mansion. Suleyman was one of the most respected and richest of spice traders in the country. His son, Yousuf, had been identified as one of the suicide bombers.  Yousuf’s wife Rashida heard the police sirens outside the mansion. She quietly gathered her three young sons and led them into a room. They knelt on their silk mats and Rashida led them in their prayers.

O Dear Lord,

We lived the life you gave,

Lived it the way you showed.

Every day was dedicated to you,

Every deed was as the sacred text said.

Never did anyone falter

Never did anyone think twice.

You are always right

Yours will always be right.

We lived for you

Lived for your cause

Now the time has come

To reach closer to you.

Accept me My Good Lord

Accept my family

As I light the Holy Flame now

Ameen.

As the prayer ended, the children closed in on Rashida who looked bloated around the belly. She was not only six months pregnant but also had a belt strapped around her. With arms wrapped around her children, she pulled a fuse….wroooooom…craaash!! The roof came crashing down and Rashida and her children born and unborn had their parts scattered all across the place as the police entered the premises.

Life is an uncertainty, death is not. It will happen, just that you don’t know when and how. Who is right, who is not is difficult to judge. But what makes you shiver is the faith that drives you to kill, destroy and seek Paradise in return for the eternal sacrifice. Which God shows a path, what text makes people go to such extremes and do the unthinkable and bring misery and death unto others will remain a mystery in this life. I would surely like to meet these bombers up there to write the next version of Freudian theory. However, the reaction to such fanaticism is always yours. Yousuf decided on revenge for killings of his brethren elsewhere. Eric took the course of forgiveness. Each to his own.

Meanwhile the ship MV Innocent ferrying people to the other world had started its voyage. On seat numbers 10 A, B and C were seated Elsa, Emma and Emil. On the other side on seats 10 D, E & F were Rashida’s three and half children. The kids on both side of the aisle smiled and waved to each other and sang in unison:

Michael row the boat ashore, hallellujah

Michael row the boat ashore, hallelujah

This old world’s a mighty big place, hallelujah

It’s got Satan all over its face, hallelujah

Jordan’s river is chilly and cold, hallelujah

But it warms the human soul, hallelujah

So Michael row the boat ashore , hallelujah

SS

NB. This is a pure work of fiction woven around and inspired by the recent happenings in Sri Lanka on Easter in April 2019. Names, characters and incidents are author's imagination and any resemblance is purely coincidental.