Our office was expanding rapidly to different parts of the country.
Each month, I sent the bulk of my salary home. Oppol and Radhika called regularly, with all the news about my family and village.
It was during this time that I got pulled in by activism again. I and a few like-minded Malayali friends founded an organisation, Kerala Anti-corruption Redressing Mentors Association (KARMA), to help fight the corruption that was rampant in Kerala. Our organisation gradually started being recognised by expats and people in Kerala. We helped many poor and helpless people whose lives were mired in the sordid, inefficient and corrupt bureaucracy of Kerala. We also fought for environmental issues and social justice. The most satisfying part was that we empowered our people, especially those who were usually intimidated by the tangled bureaucracy, to react and demand justice from an unfair system. KARMA was a wonderful platform to interact with people with similar ideologies.
Those are good memories. Satisfying days. Most expats would have such memories and experiences. These are our links to the past, and the future, to home and beyond.
The Fortieth Night
The sky is saffron. The sun prepares to dip into the depths of memories. The night tiptoes in with its dark quilt, capable of hiding anything.
The bats seem confused by the newly whitewashed walls of the house. They flap like the demented. Shadowy creatures of the dark.
And what about me? A creature of the dark without even a shadow as a companion. Surrounded by only silence and loneliness. And, yes, the spirits!
Though I know that death is just a continuation of life, on this night, the penultimate night, I feel orphaned. Suffocated. No more questions and answers. It all seems so pointless.
The house looks spruced up. The old broken flowerpots have been replaced with new ones. Bright flowers smile and nod from them. New tube lights have been installed; they spread their radiance into the dark lanes in front of the house.
The pandal is already up by the side of the house. Red plastic chairs and tables are stacked up inside it. Preparations for cooking are progressing in the makeshift outdoor kitchen. Women are grating coconut, singing to keep up with the rhythm of their fast-moving hands. Men squeeze coconut milk as they laugh at the antics of a drunken pair.
Vishnu and some other children are having fun playing on the stack of rolled-up mats.
Vishnu.
His laughter and games remind me so much of my own childhood—the paradise that I have lost.
Oppol and Sumathy are busy greeting visitors. Quite a few people have already arrived. Relatives and friends from far away. They will return only after my final rites tomorrow.
It feels like a celebration; the house looks more like it’s celebrating a marriage rather than observing a bereavement. Everyone is talking and laughing as they get busy with the activities.
No, not everyone. Manu master sits alone in one of the chairs, looking thoughtfully into the dark. He looks careworn. Unkempt hair and beard. A gaunt face. I know that man. He must be thinking of the long evenings we spent together on the river shore. He must be missing me terribly.
Naanu uncle is resting alone in the recliner. He is gazing at my grave. What thoughts are going through his mind? Only good ones, I am sure. He is incapable of bad thoughts. Maybe, he is thinking of me as the little boy he carried around on his shoulders. Dearest uncle, I can no more read your thoughts, I can only be in your thoughts.
I am losing the last connections with this world. I will soon lose my thoughts and memories before I embark on my final journey along that dim one-way corridor. But I can still hope. That another life, another spring and summer, autumn and winter, wait for me on the other side.
When a death happens, everyone sympathises with the bereaved family. It will be the talk of the place. Some will be genuinely sorry. Others pretend to be sorry, for form’s sake. Some grieve deep in their hearts. They never forget.
But nobody thinks about the pain of the dead. They don’t realise that it is not the body that hurts, it is the soul. The soul that is still alive.
Even those who believe in life after death forget about this aspect—the grieving soul. Nobody mentions it for fear of being ridiculed. It will be considered a flight of fancy! The pain of the soul is never acknowledged. Not by any of the living. And that is the biggest punishment that is meted out to us by our loved ones.
Death cannot displace a person’s thoughts and desires and dreams. I am the perfect example of that. We can’t run away from our own stories. Our thoughts take flight beyond death— through my childhood, teenage, youth. Those pains were not just mine. They involved my loved ones, my fellow humans, my mother earth. Society never cowed me. I never bowed down to its outmoded traditions.
But I was defeated by my own thoughts and memories.
Not once, but a hundred times.
On these moonlit nights, under the trees, I stand naked, a soul without the body.
This is the fate of all the dead, without discrimination.
We are now bound by fate. With no say in our own rebirths! Just puppets. In the hands of the master puppeteer.
What is the point of all this? I have no answer. Not yet.
Radhika is speaking to my friends from college, Reena, Raji and Celine, but I can’t find the one person that I want to see.
Where is Ruby?
Maybe, she will come only tomorrow, in time for the ceremony. She might be reluctant to see old friends who know our history.
Or, won’t she? Will she be able to stay away from bidding me my final farewell?
Is she worried that she won’t be able to control her emotions? Can she manage to be one among the crowd?
I don’t know. I don’t know anything, anymore.
Robin and Sreedharan priest walk in briskly. They are bringing the materials necessary for tomorrow’s puja. Robin hands over everything to Sumathy and then goes inside to see Deepu.
Deepu, my forgotten brother.
He is sitting up on his bed, writing in his diary. He regularly writes his diary these days. That diary seems to be his best friend now. His confidant. His secret keeper. It must be some relief for him when he can express all his grief and frustration in black and white on those pages.
Oppol, too, comes in with Robin. “He is always scribbling in that diary now.” She says with a smile.
Deepu smiles at Robin and shuts his diary. He looks haggard. The eyes look dark and sunken. He has lost weight too. The stubble on his face and the long hair give him a wild look. “He refuses to cut his hair or shave till after the forty-first day.” Oppol murmurs.
Robin always makes it a point to visit Deepu when he comes over. Deepu looks forward to his visits.
His smile is laced with grief.
A huge void bordered by a thorn fence surrounds him. One that can never be filled. One that he can never escape from. When he struggles against it, he cuts himself on the thorns and the blood seeps into the dark letters on his diary. Robin understands this more than anyone else now.
Naanu uncle has perked up at the sight of Sreedharan priest. The two of them are now chatting and chewing betel with some other elderly men and women on the veranda. Sreedevi aunty is also here.
Some of my friends are standing around my grave. They are talking of fate and inevitability and unpredictability.
My thoughts again race back to my chaotic life.
The rainy season when I had returned home, eager to see my heir on earth, my son. That whole vacation it rained heavily, till the last day. How sorry I was to leave him and Radhika behind, at the end of it.
I returned to Bahrain amid speculations of a global recession, but there were no major effects in my company or even in the Gulf, in general.
I was transferred with promotion to the headquarters in Manama. That gained me more responsibilities and some enemies at work and, consequently, more stress. I also started feeling the effects of age. I was getting tired quickly and found it difficult to keep up with my young
er colleagues.
Sometimes, I felt depressed, for no particular reason. As if a darkness was always living within my heart, in a corner that refused to be lit up. I also started missing home more, especially Radhika and Vishnu.
When I saw the doctor for the annual check-up, he ran some tests and advised me seriously. “Uthaman, your body is finding it difficult to cope with your stress. You have to slow down. Take rest. Relax more. Exercise regularly. And, if you feel it will do you good, think about going back to your family and home.” He prescribed many pills and capsules for me.
The Gulf life had made me very sedentary. Home and office. I had virtually no exercise. I hadn’t worried too much about my fitness since I was naturally lean, but now I realised that I was looking unhealthy and pallid.
Around that time, another incident shook me up.
I was one of the most active members of KARMA, along with many other dedicated members. We used to interact very closely and communicate often. I realised that the wife of one of my friends had developed feelings for me. At first, I ignored the signals. But later, she created opportunities to meet me away from everybody else. I tried to talk to her about right and wrong. About the values of society. But she refused to listen to reason. I was feeling anxious. Finally, I confided in Haneef and asked him to talk to her about how I wasn’t interested in her overtures. But it is true that hell hath no fury like a spurned woman. She started spreading rumours that I tried to insult and sexually assault her. Though most of my friends knew me well enough not to believe the gossip, a minority did. And that caused intense tension within the organisation too. I felt torn and ultimately decided to leave KARMA, the baby I had helped bring up. It was a big blow and yet another terrible cause of stress to me.
KARMA went through a bad time after that. Haneef begged me to return, but I stood firm and never did.
But the incident did take a toll on me. The days that followed were uneasy; I felt hunted.
Fear gripped me.
Nightmares woke me.
My right eye kept twitching.
Chest pains.
Anxiety.
Heaviness.
Numbing along the left upper arm.
Flashing pains around the navel.
The desire to see everyone back home became almost overwhelming. I could hear Radhika and Vishnu calling me. I could feel the presence of Ruby.
In my dreams, my parents visited me—again and again.
I decided to take leave for a fortnight and go home.
But, that day, I got so busy at the office that I forgot to apply for the leave.
After lunch, I was looking through some official documents, when I was seized by the most terrible pain I had ever felt. I felt as if my chest was breaking open. I collapsed on the floor. I felt Achen and Amma on either side of me, massaging my chest. Amma kissed me lovingly on my forehead. They tried to help me up. There were hands pulling me up, but at that moment, I saw the crown of death. I felt at peace. No more pain. I stood to one side to watch my death. Achen and Amma had already left, not even leaving their shadows.
I realised that my colleagues had rushed me to the hospital. My eyes were bulging and looked terrified, as if the knowledge of death scared me.
When the doctors announced my death to my colleagues, none of them could believe it. Haneef was in shock. Grief broke all dams and congealed in the atmosphere. I stood protected from it in a huge bubble.
I am still here, alone, in my own invisible bubble.
The holy guardian was speaking again. “Man is beyond nature. A representative on earth. The people who receive him at birth are not the same ones that will carry him away on death. His karma decides his fate. He will be judged truthfully, impartially. Life is meaningful. Purposeful. A man should aim for beyond death. For a life beyond. For moksha.”
The moon has disappeared behind the clouds. Except for the cooks, the other workers have all gone to bed. The house sleeps. My home. Swayed by the tests of time but still standing tall and proud.
My thoughts are condensing, coalescing… One more night. Just one more!
The final rites will take place tomorrow. The puja that will be performed will have profound, far-reaching effects—good or bad; in your hands I leave myself, God.
The Forty-First Night
Today is a night as bright as the day. My last night.
Moonlight floods the yard. My home and surroundings are lit up brilliantly for my last rites—my farewell puja.
From this bright light, I will traverse this dark night, through dim hallways, to my unknown destination. To the shores of loneliness.
All my memories are now buried deep in the darkness of a forgotten world. I don’t belong here anymore. Even the breeze avoids me. The wind of change lifts me into another world.
I wait in the dark. I am prepared. For whatever awaits me. Will they relegate me to a forgotten, dusty corner, with the old relics? I hope not. Will I witness the changing seasons again? I hope so.
Soon, very soon, the spirits will surround me and subtly, without disturbing anyone, will lead me away to my journey’s end. Before the end of this night.
But now, I am here. With my family. Witnessing my last rites.
Smoke and fire. Sreedharan priest is performing the puja. Sumathy and Vishnu are sitting in front of him, shivering in their wet clothes.
A large crowd has gathered to take part in my last rites. I must again be living and dying in their thoughts.
Deepu is watching from inside his room.
Radhika is trying hard to stay composed.
The smell of incense and sandalwood wafts in the air; the stifled sobs from Radhika and Oppol mingling in it.
I can’t be a part of their sorrow now. I am already detached, lonely, a mere observer.
The end of an inconspicuous life.
Where are my parents? I had felt their presence at the time of my death. Or was it my imagination? In those moments of intense pain, before I lost everything, was I holding on to the hands that had always offered me the greatest protection? Where did they come from? Where did they go? Will I ever see them again?
Does it matter? Why do I still question? When it is time to surrender unconditionally?
My ancestors, too, have left. There is nothing more they can do to help. Only these last rites conducted for me by my son can help me now. If everything goes well, I can leave with a peaceful heart.
The rites are almost done.
Naanu uncle washes the steps with sandalwood, flowers and holy water. He is purifying them to invite my spirit to come into the house.
Vishnu waits patiently beneath the steps.
His mind is again in turmoil. He doesn’t know why he is repeating more rituals for his father, who he now knows is dead, and is a star or a crow.
He sneaks a look up at the sky. No, there are no stars. Can Achen be down here with him? He looks all around in hope. And when he can’t see Achen in the crowd, his eyes fill with tears.
Dearest Vishnumon, how cruel is this fate that drives me away from you! I am so helpless, my son. It will take a long time before you realise the truth about death. But know that you will. One day.
His innocence. Radhika’s pain. Oppol’s love. Deepu’s helplessness. Sumathy’s frustrations. Ruby. Naanu uncle. Manu master. My friends. My village. My river. My meadows. My hills. Wasn’t this my heaven? Why am I being forced to seek another one? I don’t want to leave this one. Nothing can be better than the life I had here.
It is no good protesting anymore. I will have to leave with them. What will I fight them with? My body is no more. My spirit is theirs.
I am thankful I leave behind a marker, my grave, for my son to remember me and pray for me. My last signature on this earth.
Sreedharan priest takes Vishnu by his hand and leads him gently into the house. This is the final rite. Through this gesture, the priest has invited me into the house, honouring me with a position in the house along with all my ancestors. Vishnu complies q
uietly.
It is done. All the rites are now completed satisfactorily. Now, it is just waiting for the spirits to do their job.
The minute Sreedharan priest releases him, Vishnu runs to Radhika. She hugs him with a sob. “Are you tired Vishnumon? Come. Amma will give you food now. My handsome, clever boy. How well you did everything for Achen. Achen will be so proud of you!” Radhika kisses his cheek and takes him to the kitchen to feed him.
My poor Radhika! I can only imagine the turmoil she must be going through—forced to smile and behave normally even while burning up inside.
Radhika! Please don’t worry. Our Vishnu will turn out to be a good and successful man. He will take very good care of you. He won’t let you suffer because of my absence. Meanwhile, please take care of my family too. They are now your responsibility. That is what would make me really happy.
The people crowd into the pandal to enjoy the sadya. At the one end, a leaf is laid out for me too. This is my last supper.
Wait!
I scan the whole crowd.
Where is Ruby?
Is she not here?
She didn’t come to say the final goodbye to her Appu?
Why do I feel uneasy? Is this a premonition? Ruby, where are you? Even at this late hour, when I am supposed to be free of all thoughts and pain, why do you hurt me so?
Robin is busy serving food to everyone.
Poor Robin!
He hasn’t had any rest for the past forty days. He has been doing everything required to help my family. Sumathy is lucky. She will be safe in those strong hands. And that is a big solace to me.
Robin will be the Appu of my family now. I am happy about it. In many ways, he is a better man than I ever was. I can leave this earth glad in the knowledge that he will be taking care of my family.
After the sadya, people start dispersing.
Suddenly, screams can be heard from Robin’s home.
What is it? What happened now?
The atmosphere darkens menacingly.
Someone comes running through the dark calling for Robin. The man halts, pants and then whispers in Robin’s ears. Robin drops whatever he was holding, and runs out. He is followed by a crowd.
The Soul of Truth Page 29