Death and I

It will come when it comes, and when it comes I’m powerless to stop it, so why brood over it? – Satyajit Ray on death

I heard that a very long time ago, in an interview that I saw on television, at an age when the concept of death hadn’t really sunk in. Things have changed since then.

A couple of weeks ago, in the early hours of the morning I woke up to the sound of my phone buzzing. It was a close friend of mine, but I thought I’d just ignore it for the time being, and carry on sleeping. I did mean to call him back later. An hour later he rang again, and this time I did pick up, and the news was dire. His father, suffering from heart disease for a long time, had died in the early hours of the morning. There was no one around to help, and he was finding it a little difficult to manage everything alone, could I come over? My mind of course wasn’t functioning. I had just woken up after all. My morning cup of tea and a smoke seemed to make things clearer. My mother had only one thing to say, “He is your friend and has done a lot for you, it is your duty to be there”. I wasn’t really considering lazing around at home, but death scares me, and cremation scares me even more, so there was quite a bit of fear holding me back, but that one line decided it for me. I was going. It was going to be my third trip to the crematorium.

All the way, in a cab racing through half empty roads, I was consumed with fear and nervousness. I’m still not certain what that fear was of. I was not sad, I was just afraid…and anxious. Once I reached the hospital though, things seemed calmer. My friend was very calm and matter of fact. A got a briefing of what had happened and what needed to be done, and I dove in. This is one of the things that strikes me about death, in the first few hours, there is very little space for grief. There is some much work to be done that there is almost no time to breathe. So I did all that I thought was expected of me, which wasn’t much actually. Go to the local market, get the few items that are needed. That too was made easy by the fact that the shop-owner understood from the first few things I had asked for that someone had died, and himself told me what else was needed, and exactly where in the market I could find them. The hearse was already waiting. The body was prepared, flowers etc, and put in, and then we were on our way to the crematorium.

I would have liked to stay with him till the very end, but that, unfortunately, was not to be. The station had no one to replace me on the show, and I was told, very gently, that I would have to be there, though, if I was late, they would understand. So I called a few common friends, and made sure there was someone there all through. Once the body had entered the queue at the crematorium, and I was sure everything else was taken care of, I bid farewell, and went out looking for a taxi.

After it was all over, and I had some time to reflect on it, I realized that it really helped that there wasn’t much crying. No hysterics from any member of the family, partly because they were somewhat ready for it. I too, was not very sad, just busy, with too many things to do. That probably happened because I had never met his father, and while I am quite close to him, the fact that he didn’t look shattered probably helped me stay…well…normal, for lack of a better word. And like my mother often says, when life has left the body, it isn’t the person you used to know, just a…thing. I guess that’s a frightening thought too.

My greatest fear is that some day I will have to do this for my parents. It is inevitable. I just hope there is someone with me when the time comes, because I don’t think I can manage on my own.