‘His’ grave was a jest for ‘them’ and so was’his’ life. Had ‘they’ lived his life, had ‘they’ felt what ‘he’ had been feeling all those years, had ‘they’ seen the things the way ‘he’ saw, had ‘they’ heard what ‘he’ had been hearing for all those years, ‘they’ wouldn’t have laughed that way all that long nor ‘they’ would have ignored his feelings and most importantly ‘he’ would not have been here where ‘he’ is now-at his grave;’he’ would have been living his life. His soul cried then. Not because his life was a joke for others, not because what ‘he’ had been was a humour for all, but because ‘he’ knew that ‘their’ life too would turn into a joke one day in someway or the other, and then ‘he’ could laugh terribly. But the real grief was that ‘he’ knew that ‘they’ would never ever experience what ‘he’ had experienced, at least not in this lifetime. People think his soul is now at rest, but actually it is his body and not the soul. His soul still searches for peace; ‘he’ is still restless.