I was in my sleep. Far away I could hear wailing , crying, despair. A woman, no women in fact. It was disturbing. Sadness should always be despised, expelled, warded off. Life has taught me that. I tried to ignore that. Disquieting dreams should never be encouraged. I tried to doze back of again. Impossible!! It started becoming further more intense, the feeling took over and then I woke up. But then it was strange. It wasn’t a dream that contained all that howling in. It was happening somewhere, somewhere really, really close . I got up. It was 6 30 am. Not at all my time to wake up. Miles to go for it. It could be an inception of some sort, I wondered, and laughed off the thought the very next moment. But then, the front door, the living room was open. And then I was stunned, numb. All of that what I was experiencing was not any supernatural-extra terrestrial state. It was something normal, something all of us would have to face, with no alternative given. Death. Some one had just died. MY neighbour was that some one.
Cancer it was. Though he had totally recovered from it a year back, it had to come back to him, and then engulfed him. He was not old, not young. Two children, both working, one married with a kid. No smokes, no alcohol. It was more of a surprise when he was diagnosed with it, in the first place. But then the so called creator is good with putting good people through a lot, isn’t he?. And now I was standing there, at their door step. The mortal body, soul less, motionless, lay there stock-still. People, family, friends, associates, all came to pay their homage. Then came out a woman, almost unconscious, held by two other females. She was the wife. Her manifestation itself stated that, followed by the daughter, who was still in her senses, and that was the sad part. Cause she was still not over the truth that laid before her . A glimpse, and then they were taken away. A young lad ,around 28, stood there, and looked at the duo. And then he collapsed like an avalanche . He was the son. He too was pulled away. On the stairs sat a man of 80. The father, rattling some philosophies. The news was too much for him to bear. He had already cried his part out. He seemed the most sensible. Sign of a man who has seen the world enough and has all the incidents of life holed up inside him. A distant relative was consoling them, and asking them to be stone hearted, strong, cause they knew it was coming. Tears were not going to help, he was saying. And I was like, we would see tough guy, when you go through the same.
Death is so common yet so weird. It the way people associate death. And in the light of the same demented feeling I wondered. What if the soul, free from shackles, was sitting beside his carcass. Looking at his family, looking at the mass gathered to mourn his departure from the living world. How sad he would be to see his loved ones crying. I could think of him trying to convince them not to cry, cause he was now free. But the irony was I could then think of him being happy, seeing all the people who had gathered. It was cause they loved him. Being loved is a beautiful feeling. Doesn’t matter before or after death. Irrespective of the fact of the source of love! When you are being thought of, you have done something worth with your life. Period!
Life is like compilation of many truths, small big. Death being the most dominant along with birth. Like Bryant McGill said, “ Birth and death; we all move between these two unknowns”. We know we are going to end up at the same state. No matter how much yoga we were to practice, innumerable botox intakes, and all the responses to the TV adds that promises you to add extra years into their lives lets face it, You gonna be dead. Before or after your loved ones. No escaping from it. People never realize it, or perhaps they are acting that they can not figure it out. No one is satisfied, but then it’s the human nature to always ask for more if its available for free. But then cause of the indifference he dies much before his actual death. Thinking all these couldn’t help my cause of reaching any where near the birth-death cycle. I could not agree more to Maurice Maeterlinck . He had once hailed, “All our knowledge merely helps us to die a more painful death than animals that know nothing.” So true!
Cancer it was. Though he had totally recovered from it a year back, it had to come back to him, and then engulfed him. He was not old, not young. Two children, both working, one married with a kid. No smokes, no alcohol. It was more of a surprise when he was diagnosed with it, in the first place. But then the so called creator is good with putting good people through a lot, isn’t he?. And now I was standing there, at their door step. The mortal body, soul less, motionless, lay there stock-still. People, family, friends, associates, all came to pay their homage. Then came out a woman, almost unconscious, held by two other females. She was the wife. Her manifestation itself stated that, followed by the daughter, who was still in her senses, and that was the sad part. Cause she was still not over the truth that laid before her . A glimpse, and then they were taken away. A young lad ,around 28, stood there, and looked at the duo. And then he collapsed like an avalanche . He was the son. He too was pulled away. On the stairs sat a man of 80. The father, rattling some philosophies. The news was too much for him to bear. He had already cried his part out. He seemed the most sensible. Sign of a man who has seen the world enough and has all the incidents of life holed up inside him. A distant relative was consoling them, and asking them to be stone hearted, strong, cause they knew it was coming. Tears were not going to help, he was saying. And I was like, we would see tough guy, when you go through the same.
Death is so common yet so weird. It the way people associate death. And in the light of the same demented feeling I wondered. What if the soul, free from shackles, was sitting beside his carcass. Looking at his family, looking at the mass gathered to mourn his departure from the living world. How sad he would be to see his loved ones crying. I could think of him trying to convince them not to cry, cause he was now free. But the irony was I could then think of him being happy, seeing all the people who had gathered. It was cause they loved him. Being loved is a beautiful feeling. Doesn’t matter before or after death. Irrespective of the fact of the source of love! When you are being thought of, you have done something worth with your life. Period!
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