Skip to main content

Of Death and of Life

Life sometime seems like a walk through the desert with little change in the scenarios, deaths are only punctuations sewed on an otherwise plain, uneventful story as someone called it "a tedious story twice told".
Last week I lost some one who was once very close to me, who in older days of joint families would have been termed as head of the family in Indian context. My paternal uncle, the oldest among the brothers, my father had passed away. Why I say once close is because the present has a nasty way of messing up with the past. I still remember the love that he showered on me when I used to visit him as a child. A child has great capacity of love, unhindered by other considerations and I would love him with same vigour and enthusiasm as I would my own parents. Families grow, larger and apart, and so did we as the distances found a way into the closely knit relation till the time we came to a point that whenever we both families looked at each other, we would look as if gazing across a glass pane in cold morning with fog playing with the vision.
Slowly, as lives move in a direction of unlove, we look at our pasts with fondness. I sometime wonder if those blessed with siblings realize the loneliness and futile attempts to fight that which an only child grows up.
In spite of the distances which seeped in, it was his persona as a neat, tall and upright figure, who would always speak in a chaste and kind language with some hidden undercurrent warmth of oneness, and in the memories of the past. For some reason the love that he carried, could not transcend to the following generations, each individual busy in analysing the equivalence of relationship and bitterly fighting his or her own summary battle everyday. We fought, and hurt and ignored everybody, safe and secure in the knowledge of the anchor which he represented, holding the family together, even in a notional, feeble way. As he follows his wife, who was always very kind to me as well, in to the heavenly abode of existence or non-existence which I am not wise enough to know of, the world around him seems lost trying to make sense of the loss of balance which his demise presents. Hope those next in order will rise to the occasion to take charge and hold the family as a glue connecting it all together till we can. Passing away of a generation in a family marks great transformation, and no one can guess how we are going to come out of it, better or worse. It also remind one of the infallibility of those still around and gives a sense of velocity with which time moves, amidst the waves of which we float helplessly. While I bid farewell to him, I do think how important it is to embrace forgiveness, as we do not know if time will grant me another Sunday, another movie and another cricket match in the green park stadium.He did however lived a full life, marred in between with some undeserved misfortune, basking in the warmth of love of his children and grand-children. Hope those after him would srtive for same warmth and love. Every death around us bring a similar set of thoughts which we would do well to heed to, is it important to be right than to be loved, shouldn't we forgive more and judge less and shouldn't we actively try to extract utter joy and happiness from our otherwise banal existence.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Know the Naxals- A brief look at the History

There have been many debates of late on the television, in the wake of the arrests of those who are now increasingly mentioned as the Urban Naxals. I am both shocked and amused at the same time to look at the audacity of the sympathizers of Naxal terrorism, in all their starched Saris and handloom Kurtas, when they hide behind the same constitution, that the want to overthrow. They are shrill, sophisticated, eloquent and deriding. They hate the common folks, and their disdain for those who work, create and make a living, peeps through their elitist smiles. They are mostly ideologues (yes, that is some work for sustenance in the modern scheme of things), academics and well, ostensibly, writers and poets. The fact remains that when communism is the scheme of things, Naxal notices mentioning Jan Adaalats in the villages of Chattisgarh too become work of art, and corpses hanging from the electricity poles, become equivalent of art work on the roof of Sistine chapel.
The other day, Ms. Arun…

बुद्धिजीवियों की बारात

बुद्धिजीवियों की बारात
शरद जी रिटायर हो चुके थे। आधार का भय आधारहीन मान कर आधार बनवा चुके थे, और पेंशन प्राप्त कर के भोपाल मे जीवनयापन कर रहे थे। एक बार बिहार जा कर शरद जी नरभसा चुके थे, पुन: नरभसाने का कोई इरादा था नहीं, सो मामाजी के राज में स्वयं को सीमित कर के रखे हुए थे। इस्लाम आज कल ख़तरे मे नही आता था, संभवत: इमर्जेंसी के बाद से, इस्लाम सबल हो चुका था, और कल निपचती जींस और लोकतंत्र के ख़तरे मे रहने का दौर चल रहा था। न्यू मार्केट के कॉफ़ी हाऊस मे चंद बुद्धिजीवी लोकतंत्र पर आए संकट पर चर्चा कर लेते थे, जोशी जी वहाँ भी नहीं जाते थे। एक दफे वहाँ के मलियाली वेटर्स को जोशी जी के हिंदी लेखक होने का पता चल गया और उन्होंने जोशीजी को यिंदी यिम्पोजीशन के विरोध मे कॉफ़ी देने से मना कर दिया था। कहाँ शरदजी सरस्वती से ब्रह्मप्रदेश तक लिखना चाहते थे और कहाँ उन्हे बड़े तालाब के उत्तर भाग का लेखक घोषित कर दिया गया था। इस से क्षुब्ध जोशी जी अपने बग़ीचे मे टमाटर उगा रहे थे। जानने वाले कहते हैं कि इसके पीछे उनकी मँशा महान किसान नेता बन कर उभरने की थी, किंतु उन्हे पता चला कि आधुनिक किसान नेता किसानों को …

A Husband's Views On Karvachauth

Today is the day of Indian, or should I say, Hindu festival of Karvachauth, much popularized by Bollywood. Initially a festival of Northern India, now it is widely celebrated. The festival is primarily of a day of fasting, observed by married women, praying for the long life of their husbands. As is the practice, the festival is marked by severe criticism every year by over-jealous atheists, fanatic feminists and bigoted secularist, who claim that the festival is patriarchal, regressive and anti-woman. If one considers those rants to be true, one would believe that there is huge amount of physical and emotional trauma that womenfolk are subjected to, in order to get them around to fast on the day.  However, if one were to visit any of the markets in Delhi, the scenario is quite contrary. You will find happy, joyous women on the streets of Delhi, excitedly visiting beauty parlors, with their husbands dragged themselves behind them, holding the kids as wife gets Mehandi to her hands- do…