Hello Mehreen…
I pray Mom recovered well and
has no more problems where her health is concerned.
I am deeply touched by your
concern over my prolonged silence during past month. As you know my father
expired on 15th October 2012 by 2215 hours. I will narrate the
account of events and the reason behind my silence.
You are well aware that in the
month of September 2012 I had to rush back home town to meet my father who was
admitted in hospital. Some kind of stupid premonition or a blunt logic was
gnawing my head all the time that I need to confront this eventuality sooner. I
was in any case lived a life so far away from my family on the account of
preserving my individuality and disagreement with what’s practiced at home. I could
not quite grow in the fearful shadow of my father’s unreasonable and paranoiac.
But rest of the other family members accepted that as a norm of our lower
middle class life.
I broke away and made my own
life… albeit it was not dramatic with success and fame took over the way
tsunamis now days are doing around the world.
Dad actually killed himself
with his criminal disregard for medical assistance, ignorance of reality and
fallen pray for fallacy. He treated his jaundice on his own consuming a glass
of water laced with turmeric. Anyone suggesting additional medical attention
was scared off with his overtly violent behavior and finally when things became
irreversible he screamed for help.
He was admitted in ICU and was
unable even to recognize me. After initial 24 hour observation they further
extended the stay at ICU for another 24 hours. And I faced the doctor with a
blunt question if there is anything that could lead his efforts towards
optimism. That gentleman was equally objective in telling me that the best
possible care that could be given to Dad was to be with him all the time and
give whatever he wants.
I took a deep breath and made
my decision. First I asked the hospital administration to settle the bills and
then went out to meet the mob of relatives who came to pay a visit. Perhaps it
was the first time I addressed all my relatives in a voice resonating that I made
a decision as to what needs to be done about Dad. And that is to take him back
home, make him feel comfortable in the environment in which he lived decades
and be with him talk all simple, stupid things that are good times and
nostalgic.
When I rolled out the wheel
chair of Dad towards ambulance and told him that we are going home, he smiled
broad and uttered happy words that he is given a blessing to live again. He thanked
me for pulling him out of the hell where other people put him (The hell here is
hospital) and taking him back to haven… that is his home. It was embarrassing
for me to mutely accept his appreciation as my inner self was in turmoil with
what would happen within a few days. The doctors gave a very hopeful week for
all the pleasures my Dad wish to seek and after which… Amen…
In our return journey home
that is a 4 hours’ drive he was so jubilant and verbose even when he was laying
down on the ambulance stretcher. And very sadly he did not allow my mother and
brother who were always there for him to be near him. It is an obvious portrait
of injustice where people who came later were given credit for love and care. But
I begged my Mom and Bro to ignore those most hurting hatred. They complied the
same way as they have been complying since years.
Life after wards was so idle
and routine. Cleaning him up and making
him feel was totally my responsibility. Brother handled the works that have to
be dealt outside home. Sisters looked after the house hold chores we changed
places according to need and convenience to sit with Dad and talk to him about
lots of things that were otherwise stupid. But it seems to have worked out a
tiny trace of miracle. He started eating tiny amounts of food and even his bladder
function was restored. This simple development gave us immeasurable hope. His requests
to us in not taking back to the torture house called hospital in the name of
medical care were heeded with helpless indifference.
After three weeks I started
getting restless as I left my office without preparing any backup mechanism in
handling my cases. I asked my Dad if he could manage getting better so that I could
go back and see what happening in job. He permitted me to go.
I reached Bombay and was a
little absent minded. My boss was kind enough to empathize with me and did not pressurize
me much. I told him that unless a miracle takes place, I am completely prepared
to bid final farewell to my father. My boss being a person who lost parents
himself at a young age understood my trauma.
A daily telephonic
conversation ensued between me and other family members during the interim. But
just within a week after I left home town I started getting troublesome symptoms
over which my siblings assured that there is nothing to worry about.
And on 15th October
2012 by 2230hours while I was travelling in local train from my office to home,
sister called and between sobs she told that Dad passed away. I took that grief
in silence. There was neither pain nor tears on my side. I just told them that
I will be coming as soon as possible. Then called another friend who booked
flight ticket to me and in the early hours of 16th October 2012 I
caught a flight to reach Hyderabad. One of my cousin brothers called and arranged
for his car to pick me up at airport and drive home straight away. This simple gesture
of common sense and compassion saved me almost 5 hours of time.
I reached home by 1230Hrs and
walked in to the room where Dad was laid down to rest. My entry made sisters
and mothers cry. In complete silence I walked towards women folk and hugged
them so tight till I sensed their pain subsided to a manageable level. I saw
peace on my father’s face. His face looked as if he was sleeping. My sisters
were narrating the account of events before his death and suddenly my mother
said, “Your father has asked for forgiveness from everyone before he passed way
and that included me, you and every other member of our family”.
That was the moment I busted
in to tears.
There was not just pain but
anger too. Had he happen to be a loving husband he would have contributed a
great family to the society around? A simple way of life lived in love, peace,
trust and harmony would have made all of us forget how poor we are and how focused
we should have been towards life. Fear and suspicion always ruled our psyches
the way a sewer rat behaves. Always hungry, always scared, always suspicious
and always ready to run away.
We waited till one of my
mother’s sisters came and then started following Dad towards his final journey.
I cremated my father by 1600 hours on 16th October 2012. Before lighting
the pyre I asked my mother permission, if I am allowed to send my father to heavenly
abode. She permitted me and I lit the pyre. Then again I broke very badly and
wept uncontrollably.
That night I slept in the
place where father’s dead body was put. I really did not think much about that
as the house was littered with relatives and space was a constraint. Ironically
all other’s avoided that room as the vibrations of death still were pervading. Later
when they told me that they were so scared of going in the room where Dad’s
dead body was there, I just smiled and said, “Even if he becomes a spirit good
or bad… he still is my father. I would assume that I am sleeping beside him the
way I used to sleep beside him when I was a kid”.
My so called logic did not
work wonders on everyone around who believed in gods and ghosts. Hence I slept sprawling
like Vitruvian man beneath the one and only ceiling fan that existed in my house,
while all others slept one above another to allow the mosquito community to
puncture them all indiscriminately and suck blood.
Next few days where all death
related rituals observed were so stressful and exhibitive for me. Personally I hated
every moment of those stupid acts of show off, in the name of appeasing the
spirit and making way towards haven. I would not go deep in to those things as
they were all orchestrated with lots of monetary benefits for the undeserved
people around. I would rather have been happier to feed people either at a home
for aged or an orphanage. It was all so disgusting and intolerable wherein I had
to grit my teeth and accept everything mutely as the fall out shall be directed
towards my poor mom and brother from society around.
Other than rituals the most important
thing was to organize the financial support structure part. Dad was a
government employee who used to draw pension. And only after his death we
discovered few accounts that have some savings which were not too bad. I had to
chase all those official involved in making things possible in linking all
those resources to my mother’s bank accounts.
One day I was given some cash
by a bank and I put that cash in my mother’s hand saying that it’s her own. The
next few moments touched my heart. With weak and frail fingers she counted the
denominations three times as if she is won super lotto. Never in her life had
she had so much money in her hands even for the sake of offering her a simple
pleasure.
One of my chat friends (Her
name is Sintu Singh Azad) who lost her own father a decade ago said something that
stuck to my heart. She said, “Someone’s death becomes someone else’s freedom”.
And that day I understood what
my friend meant, looking at what my mother was doing. My mother was under
emotional and social captivity from the day she got married. It looks like
those were the social standards during that time to keep wives under control. She
refused to come out of the imposed life even after we have grown and in our rebellious
way offered advises in making her life better.
She could not even digest what
befallen over her. If she grieved the death of her husband she also was unable
to receive the kind of freedom and independence that followed. I had a long
discussion with my brother who acquired certain qualities from my Dad that
makes him impatient about being so resilient with my mother and her need to be
accepted back in the arena outside my father.
One thing I must not forget at
any cost is the true love of my brother towards our parents. I think he is the
true son with respect to the moral standards depicted in every religion. He took
care of my father and mother though he underwent tremendous pressure in life
and sacrificed the very basic personal and social needs. He refused to go out
work, make his own living because he wanted my parents to be under his watchful
eye. He is a completely misunderstood soul where his social image is concerned.
I felt so sad and guilty and
confused too.
I am not so sure if getting
out of the family embryo for right reasons becomes invalid when a parent dies
within the family. But today when I watch the disoriented mindsets of my Mom
and Bro, I feel fortunate that I came out and developed my own independent
mindset. I am able to see clarity and lead them in to an orderly future. If this
sounds like I am justifying the journey of my life, I would make amends in
keeping my Mom and Bro happy in days coming up.
Another thing that touched my
heart was, while we were sifting though million documents Dad compiled (Almost
80% of them are simply useless), my sister discovered a cover inside one of Dad’s
brief case. She silently handed that over to me and I looked up to her. She asked
me to open that in privacy. When I flipped open the cover I saw about eight
glossy photographs of Mach in 8x6 inch prints. Two of those pictures were with
me and Mach together. I cried in silence. It is so unfortunate that today I am
not even in a position to tell Mach what happened and maybe she would pay no
attention to whatever happened to me.
But the realization that it’s
not just me but my family… and most importantly my martinet and despotic father
also loved her made me smile through tears. Her aura always prevailed within
our lives. I am indebted to her as she propelled me back to my estranged family
with all her girlish innocence and love. If making people’s lives better is the
responsibility of Mach, she must be making someone happier at this moment.
Her absence coupled with my
father’s demise around same time period is the greatest misfortune I had and
shall ever have in my life. I hope my departed father’s soul bless not only us
but her too. It’s not a hope. I know he would love her and bless her.
This is all what happened
Mehreen. The future before me involves only calling daily and meeting often my
mother and brother whenever time permits me. There I a thought if I could wind
up everything here and go live with them. But I am not in favor that idea. I have my own
selfish reasons and a few valid reasons too. I proposed that they could come
live with me in Bombay but they refused. My brother is actually disturbed over
the thought of relocation as his world in woven around the place he was born
and grown.
Sadly this entrapment in life was
never planned. Lots of things happened spontaneously or orchestrated with an
element of egoism behind, they brought me good things in my life too. They brought
Mach and friends like you. It’s only a matter of time who leaves when…
Or may be… it’s only a matter
of time… I go when…
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