Death.
Death sounds so final. Like an off switch. A permanent one. A subtle click, and life changes its mode from present to past.
Death resonates with morose emotions - those of loss and a dreaded hopelessness.
For me, the experience of dealing with death has been different. Death has been uniting for me. Death has brought more reunions in my life, than any other event.
I remember very clearly the day in June 12 years back, when Grandmother passed away. She lived in a nondescript dusty old town, overnight train journey from us. The summer was not particularly forgiving, and Daadi (Grandma) hadn't exactly been keeping too well since some time. So, when I picked up the ringing phone on that fateful June day, and heard my Uncle's urgent voice asking me to pass the phone to Mummy, I sensed something was very wrong. A heavy feeling swept across, and I sat watching my mother break into tears. Father was travelling, when he got the news about his mother, and quit his trip to come back home, from where we would all travel to his home-town where his mother has lived.
I remember that I could not cry. Maybe because I had not been very close to her, having always lived in a nuclear family.
What I do remember is that - after 4 or 5 days, the reality sunk in for everyone. Daadi had lived her life, upto a ripe age of more than 80 (none of her kids know her exact age), and nothing was going to her back. Things got normal, planning the rites to be held during the next 8 days. Almost every uncle, aunt and cousin were there - some who I hadn't ever seen before. Being the youngest kid there, I was pampered. I remember my cousins sisters pinching my cheeks (I was a bit chubby back then). When night would fall providing much needed respite from the oppressive heat, all the cousins including my own brother would go to the terrace and play antaakshari, and mingle. I had been shy and scared at first, and had slept with Daddy downstairs. But, when I did stay up with them one night finally, I realised how big and fun family could be. Back home, with a father who had to be out-of-station more than half the month, and almost no other family members in the city, I had rarely known this side of life, atleast my paternal cousins.
Death somehow, had created circumstances, where the family reunited. Old feuds among brothers were forgotten, and new bonds were forged.
And when this very year was young, my maternal Grandfather died, at 90. I was trekking in Nepal then could get the news only when I reached a place with cellphone reception. I was disheartened, but nonetheless resolved to complete the trek. I could not spoil the trip for my companions.
This time, the maternal family assembled together, and the scene was similar to the one 12 years back - it brought together members of the family who hadn't spoken to each other in decades.
It is ironic - death had done, what the deceased could not manage to accomplish in his lifetime.
The blunt truth is - someday I will have to face the passing away of people dearer to me. I can't say what my reaction would be then.
There's a cliche when people think about their own lifetimes - Our deeds live on after us.
Do they really? Does anyone or anything live on forever?
There is one law in the universe - Impermanence.
I guess the only way to deal with it is to accept it.
Death sounds so final. Like an off switch. A permanent one. A subtle click, and life changes its mode from present to past.
Death resonates with morose emotions - those of loss and a dreaded hopelessness.
For me, the experience of dealing with death has been different. Death has been uniting for me. Death has brought more reunions in my life, than any other event.
I remember very clearly the day in June 12 years back, when Grandmother passed away. She lived in a nondescript dusty old town, overnight train journey from us. The summer was not particularly forgiving, and Daadi (Grandma) hadn't exactly been keeping too well since some time. So, when I picked up the ringing phone on that fateful June day, and heard my Uncle's urgent voice asking me to pass the phone to Mummy, I sensed something was very wrong. A heavy feeling swept across, and I sat watching my mother break into tears. Father was travelling, when he got the news about his mother, and quit his trip to come back home, from where we would all travel to his home-town where his mother has lived.
I remember that I could not cry. Maybe because I had not been very close to her, having always lived in a nuclear family.
What I do remember is that - after 4 or 5 days, the reality sunk in for everyone. Daadi had lived her life, upto a ripe age of more than 80 (none of her kids know her exact age), and nothing was going to her back. Things got normal, planning the rites to be held during the next 8 days. Almost every uncle, aunt and cousin were there - some who I hadn't ever seen before. Being the youngest kid there, I was pampered. I remember my cousins sisters pinching my cheeks (I was a bit chubby back then). When night would fall providing much needed respite from the oppressive heat, all the cousins including my own brother would go to the terrace and play antaakshari, and mingle. I had been shy and scared at first, and had slept with Daddy downstairs. But, when I did stay up with them one night finally, I realised how big and fun family could be. Back home, with a father who had to be out-of-station more than half the month, and almost no other family members in the city, I had rarely known this side of life, atleast my paternal cousins.
Death somehow, had created circumstances, where the family reunited. Old feuds among brothers were forgotten, and new bonds were forged.
And when this very year was young, my maternal Grandfather died, at 90. I was trekking in Nepal then could get the news only when I reached a place with cellphone reception. I was disheartened, but nonetheless resolved to complete the trek. I could not spoil the trip for my companions.
This time, the maternal family assembled together, and the scene was similar to the one 12 years back - it brought together members of the family who hadn't spoken to each other in decades.
It is ironic - death had done, what the deceased could not manage to accomplish in his lifetime.
The blunt truth is - someday I will have to face the passing away of people dearer to me. I can't say what my reaction would be then.
There's a cliche when people think about their own lifetimes - Our deeds live on after us.
Do they really? Does anyone or anything live on forever?
There is one law in the universe - Impermanence.
I guess the only way to deal with it is to accept it.
