Vikash Patrick could not help but smile, at his side was his 19 year old bride: Deepe dressed in deep pink.
As they sang the last lines of the hymn Vakisha watches as a lady enters the church and sits in the row in front of them, Vakisha looks at the church entrance to see if anyone else was entering. Right now Nepal wasn’t a safe place to worship, only a few months earlier a priest had been murdered.
There was no place he would rather be than with his wife worshiping God. What Vakisha did not notice was that the lady that sat in front of him took an object out of her purse, and slipped it in her sleeve, then left the church leaving her purse on the seat in front of them.
Five minutes later a bomb exploded, Vakisha was knocked to the floor, still conscious he looked at his wife but did not see her. He called out her name but could not hear the sound of his own voice, the explosion must have burst his eardrums.
Mixed with the red and orange colors he was seeing he saw a deep pink color, the same as Deepe’s dress. Salt water rolled down his eyes, as he was losing his consciousness a man picked him up out of the church.
He survived, but his bride did not.