Friday, April 29, 2011

Of the most poetic times : Young mind and Old age

Old Age is degrading
Big Brother is watching you. No its not political. Its completely familial. Our big brother is our Granddad. His eyes always follow us where ever we go. He fusses over little inconveniences and its completely natural. But what seems unnatural to us is , that he is always agitated. He keeps mala (for chanting) in one hand , ram naam on his lips but his eyes always wander about room and sometimes we suspect they follow us to our bedrooms also. Why someone who is on brink of his life should be so restless? Couldn't he even gather enough peace in his heart all his life?

Once when I was sitting beside him , as it is an order from our parents , as soon as I saw that he is fast asleep , slowly I was trying to stand up from my 'Hot Seat' , and not an inch I must have stood up that he opened his hollow eyes , reminding me of this famous tag from Orwell's classic Nineteen Eighty Four , "Big brother is watching you."

I am sorry if I make it seem flippant. It is serious for us , for him. I overheard today my mom dad's conversation. No , rather just an observation. Dad said  (indicating Gdad's helpless condition) , " This is hell." " Yes. It is only heaven till our hands and legs are working." , replied Mom. And I , who was too removed from psychic state of my parents , got to confront it rather too harshly. They are moving toward old age. Too slowly or too fast , this only they know. But they seem too old all of a sudden when they talk like this. I am no seven year old , and so I must understand what all I am seeing and listening.

These days are so poetic. Strange but true. And the poetry is that of old age and death. I don't like to call it a dirge (death song). Individuals interpret it their own way. And moreover , death is better than Old Age. A common notion shared by all of us. Except Gdad , I suppose. He is in love with medicines as a poet is in love with his muse. His words ditch his desires - 'Bas ab toh bhagwan utha le... ' and after five minutes , ' Arey Omez (calcium tablet) dena...'

Its okay , we all say. One can't help it at such times. And such times make one all the more a religious thinker. Its been hardly three days I have come at home and I am learning everything. Learning the ways of 'old age' , the ways of 'elder' , the ways of 'society' and the ways one has to choose for oneself. Its a struggle. But that of a caterpillar who turns into beautiful butterfly. I hope it is that beautiful.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Near the End : I , We and The Dying Man


I dont know I should write it or no.And I dont know whether I will be to able to convey my emotions honestly and objectively. But all I know is, that I need to write it. I just read Shannon Hayes's article "Saying goodbye : What do we teach kids about death ? ", which begins with the words - "My grandfather is dying." And I felt goose bump in my stomach. My grandfather is also dying. But unlike her , I am far away from him. Unlike her , I don't feel much for him. Unlike her , I don't feel it... feel it deeply.Perhaps it is because I am five hundred miles away from him or I am not sure , if I would have felt same , were I near  him at his bedside. Perhaps , it doesn't move me because he is old and I want his sufferings to end. Or perhaps it is just a poor ingenuine excuse. I feel ashamed and at the same time I know number of my relatives who come to visit him daily , feel the same thing , perhaps more cruelly than me. 

In her article , Shannon Hayes suggests , why don't we let the kids experience it, when death is working slowly with any of our dear ones. As a child , she was kept away from such experiences. But as a mother , she chooses to let her children see their great grandfather dying. She wants them to understand that death is not an end , its just a transition. She wants them to experience the unity and love the family shows to her grandfather. She wants them to learn to make something beautiful of even such dreadful event. 

Though I am moved not directly , but it is painful to see my mother and her efforts to bring me solace. I am sure she is strong and can deal with it but she thinks of me too frail. She would call up these days and in her wavering voice tell me things like - you don't worry beta , everything will be fine , he (grandpa) is feeling well now ... sometimes when things are worst she would try to hide them but her words would ditch her - how are you , how is your preparation going on? , concentrate on your studies , dont worry about grandpa , God will take care of everything , everything will be fine , ok , you dont worry , 'apne aap ko sambhalna' ... and so on... and I would later come to know that at that time Grandpa was seriously ill. 

I wonder , what make them think that I will be too moved or disturbed to concentrate in studies. How little they know of me. How little parents know of the inner growth of their children. How little generally  they are concerned with such things. I would in fact have liked to be there and feel the death working mysteriously with my granddad , to observe the effect it creates on different people , to explore the reactions and actions of my relatives. And of course , I would have liked to trace the minutest change occurring in my granddad's psyche and heart. 

But is it always that toward the end of life , realization comes? Realizations about the deeds of past , about the nature of life and about the nature of death itself. I think its an individual thing. It is like , whether person is theist or atheist externally , the realization of God may come or may not come to him , it solely depends on their internal (spiritual) life and not external. 

I think I would have moved , and moved deeply , if I would have seen a little bit of realization on my grand father's part. But I am disappointed. And still , I think this incident is leading me toward some realization. Realization of my duties - duty to serve him unconditionally , irrespective of his attitudes. Ultimately , my life will continue and later not serving him whole heartedly may hinder my peace of mind. And perhaps giving my hundred percent may give me a chance to see the essential of a human being - bare soul of a dying man. Sure it would be some reward. But I imagine of a more wild thing , of a more ethereal reward -  of the transformation of his soul before it leaves his petite body. And if anything I pray for him , I pray for this realization - Realization of Transformation.
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