March 26th 2013
I’ve always wondered how it feels, to watch
someone or something die. It maybe a dog you grew up with or a tree you
planted, which withered away or even a person you are close to. My grandmother
says that when one person in the house is ill, it shows, because the
environment at home is different. I lost my grandfather almost 4 years back.
Paternal grandfather. He used to visit us often and my memory of him was having
with a toothless smile that reached upto his ears, a round protruding belly,
sparse hair. He was someone lovable, likable. His photo is hung in the living
room. You can see the age on his face. I have memories of those occasions when he and my grandmother used to visit us or we used to
visit them or we met at functions. I have never really interacted with him much,
as far as I remember. But what I do remember was that he used to support me always, pamper me by making something that I liked or buying something for me, you know, small things that grandparents do for their grandchildren. And most of all, I
have this clear memory of him standing beside us, handing out a towel for us to
wipe our hands and face with, each time we had a meal. And this was true for
all the grandchildren. He suffered during his last days. He was diagnosed with
motor-neuron disease.
And as I type this right now, I see my
grandfather, maternal grandfather, looking out of the window and taking deep
breaths. We just got the news that my grandfather’s sister-in-law is no more.
He pulls up the chair and sits in front of me and speaks, “When I initially
came to Bombay, I stayed with my brother and sister-in-law for 10 years in
Santacruz. She used to take good care of me, I never ate at hotels, always came
home for food.” He adds, “No one will marry a bald woman now, it used to happen
only in those times. She used to never step out of the house. Very rarely did
she wear a wig and step out, rarely. She was 89 years old.” I’ve never seen my
grandfather cry. Except once. It felt strange, I remember. It is like one of
those things that you never expect you’d see. Maybe death too is like that? No one
foresees it, though we all accept its inevitability.
I remember an incident from those days when
I used to roam around in frocks and ponies, when an uncle in my grandparent’s
building passed away. My grandmother seemed visibly upset, with her hand on her
head. I went upto her and posed a crude question, “when he was alive I’ve
overheard people talking ill about him. Now that he is dead why are they
gathering at his place, consoling his wife and making sad faces? We too were
never close to them, then why are you so upset?” My grandmother, furious at my
question, asked me to go to the next room.
So, I never really got an answer for that- Why
do we lament when someone passes away? Is it because we realize we wouldn’t
have them around anymore? Is it because we regret the wrong we have done to
them? Maybe, we remember all those times we hurt them and never apologized.
Maybe we realize that we have lost a relation which others around us still
have.
I do
find death strange, because it makes us feel for even the most distant person.
Maybe as incongruous it is, the feeling that we experience at the time of
person’s death is perhaps one of the most humane feeling we might ever
experience in the course of our lives. Unadulterated and genuine.
