Father’s 6th monthly ceremony is over a week ago. Hindus celebrate death this way too, believe that by remembering the departed through these monthly ceremonies, they come to accept the terms of life without them. Only the memories are remaining. I have memories of seeing my father as a handsome young man in the police tunic uniform and civil clothes along with his extremely beautiful wife. I wondered and debated for years as to which clothes suited him better – civil or police. It was a difficult choice sir.
I saw you in your mid 40s too… a little hair off from head. Black & Grey … salt & peppery hair. 45 years of life and 4 children later you appeared slowed down… the injuries inflicted by life on your body are clearly visible. Your legs used to pain… how many times did I stand on your legs and your wife’s legs – I do not remember. I could only think of others getting old… not my parents. It is very stupid of me to even think of you getting old! I muster my courage to say…it was neither the civil clothes nor the police uniform that made you handsome; it was the presence of your adorably beautiful wife next to you made you very handsome.
In mid-1990’s your wife took leave from you and the world. Your mourning was never time bound; you mourned her loss till your last breath. You began getting surprisingly and quickly old. Doctors’ prescriptions and many medicines began to appear in the cupboard. The police job became a burden, a necessary evil. At 60 you retired. I wondered how can my father retire? Knee pain, back pain, shoulder pain… there was not a single part in your body that did not pain. You remained at home. Never went out of the house after retirement. You stayed at home contended with the bitter sweet memories of your wife. You simply stopped coloring hair! I asked myself impartially, began to believe that even my father, my hero can get old. Your mind was active, but the metabolic activity in your body slowed.
Then your mother, your second son, brothers in law, sisters and friends began to take your leave and also the leave of the world. Time became a meaningless entity. Your soul asked the existence – Are we really alone in this world? Where are all my people? Where are all those who cheered for me, shared my joys and sorrows? Where are they who cried when I cried, laughed when I had laughed? How can I be suddenly left alone? Where are all of them? Why did they go? I wanted to love them more…and be loved! No one is returning. What a shit life it is! Loneliness is the scariest thing in life!
When you were grappling these issues with you might, your children were busy procreating, earning money and began to think they are forever! You wondered very often, when they will learn. You wondered why all things go in a cyclic manner? Spring, summer, autumn? Why? Father, children and their children? Why? You wanted convey your understanding that money, name, achievements, recognition, service etc. are unimportant in life. We were so busy, we scarcely heard you sir. Unfortunately, your children were so much indulged in these very things that they forgot themselves and eventually you! You sat next to the window in your forlorn house, waiting for the sound of the rusted iron main gate opening and praying for the company of your sons! None came! The iron gate remained silent.
Your body moments slowed very fast. The courtyard that looked so small once upon a time began to look too big. Legs do not cooperate. They hurt when you walked. Yet, all the bloody doctors advised you to walk! You simply stopped walking. The old age made your modest house into a mansion! With an un-cooperative body, even a visit to the bathroom became an accomplishment. You said – Forget it! I cannot sit-down in a chair for long. You began to lie down on the bed and looking intently at the ceiling, while the mind was busy projecting on the young you who existed 70 years ago! You were running in the green fields! Climbing trees! Whenever the time permitted, you took a break from these projections to wonder: Why the food is so tasteless? Why is it not getting digested? Why there is difficulty in stools? Why having a bath became trying? Why don’t I feel like getting up from the bed? Where am I going? What is happening? Yes. I have no pains now. I feel lite and easy. Look, I am floating in the air!
The 6th monthly puja in honor of my father looked a forced affair. It became a performance, without involvement. A mechanical recitation of the hymns, more mechanical puja & eating and AI aided good byes. You were right sir! “What is the use of offering enormous quantities of food to the dead / to a god, while keeping the needy starved emotionally and physically?”
During discussions I had to inform all the ‘self-righteous’ people very politely and diplomatically, the following:
“Father shared his mind about many issues and his feelings. I do not choose to tell them to you all. This does not mean I am ignorant of my father’s heartfelt wishes. For example, none visited him regularly. He used to wait for a glimpse of his children. “They were kind to visit him briefly – in a touch me not way- once in a week”. No one discussed with him with love the shame of his soiled clothes! Many defenses were offered. I ignored them. In the same breath, my father told a million times “You are better Babu. You are my prodigal son. You have definite timings for visiting. Every day we met for the past 5 years unfailingly. In case of your inability to visit, you always called to inform, to ensure I do not wait near the window looking at the gate”. How can I tell you sir…I am a sheep too!
There was a discussion about father’s letters. He wrote mountains of letters. I had informed their content and how I preserved them. The discussion about my journal writing. The observation was ‘who has the time to read them’? Once my father had a glimpse of my journal, said “Beautiful hand writing & clarity in thoughts”. Finally, it must be clearly noted that I do not write journal for the posterity, that is the least of my thought. I write journals for myself, to have clarity in my thoughts. For FRANCIS BACON said: “Reading makes a full man; conference ready man; and writing an exact man. Therefore, if a man write little, he need to have a great memory; If he confer little, he need to have a present wit; And if he read little, he need to have much cunning to seen to know that they do not.”
About the Author
Dr. K. Raja Gopal Reddy is a seasoned internationally qualified Insurance professional.
What you are reading here, may not answer all the questions we have, but has the absolute power of asking unsettling questions which increase the interest in the strange world, and show the contradictory wonders lying just below the surface of the commonest things of life. Look at this disturbing but beautiful thought of Friedrich Nietzsche “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him”.
Dr. Reddy can be reached at: raja66gopal@gmail.com
