In a crematorium, a silent Hindu-Muslim bond

Suneel, 56, and Aqeel, 20, both Kanpur-born, led ordinary, mundane lives. We are cremating 30 to 40 bodies everyday but in April, when the second wave hit like a tsunami, we have had rows and rows of bodies lying at the gates of Bhairoghat,” says Suneel. Each body needed at least 250 kilograms of wood, some ghee and as Suneel said, “two yards of coffin cloth.” The families would not come but sometimes gave directions on a video call. Now I’m so tired when I reach home, I just fall asleep.” Aqeel reaches every morning, wears a PPE suit, secures his mask firmly over his nose and mouth and gets down to work. “Anyone who needs it,” says Gaur, whose daily schedule now entails driving into rural areas to distribute medical kits comprising masks, sanitisers and paracetamol tablets.