Page 187 - Demo

surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs in the dark, and thinking there is one more step. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things. It is unadulterated trauma, however sick or ailing the person who just died may be. Though PVG Raju died at midnight and there were poor telecommunications at that time, the news of his death started spreading. There had been several rumours about his health earlier, and people always congregated at the Fort or the hospital to know firsthand what the status was, but this time it was to be the last.The news spread through the night across the town of Vizianagaram, across the villages around, and even further away to the tribal tracts. In the early morning hours at the first hint of dawn, silent processions of people started to make their way from the villages to the Fort. The main roads, the by lanes and pathways swarmed with people walking to pay their last respects to their late Maharaja. It did not matter that there were few or no buses at that time, not all villages were connected to the rail route. People simply walked. All the shops in Vizianagaram downed shutters, the markets were closed and the villagers walked in by themselves, into a silent town. No one shouted slogans, no one lamented loudly, no one beat their breasts, there were no rallies. It was very silent, very dignified. By about mid-morning, his second son Ashok, who was then the Finance Minister of Andhra Pradesh at Hyderabad, returned. A little later his son Alak came in from Delhi just as the last rites had started. After the rituals were completed, the 173