Jan 2nd 2014
New Year started with a new experience. A Cremation.
I was getting ready for office when the phone rang and a colleague informed me about the death of another colleague’s father. We were to visit the cremation ground before going to office now.
It made me sad to think about the loss of my friend, a loss that can never be recovered, a loss that is forever, a loss that is permanent. I halted the usual routine and started thinking about this till clock said that its time to leave for cremation.
It was for the first time in my life that I was to enter a cremation ground and it made me shiver. I don’t know what to say to my friend, I don’t know how to stand, I don’t know how to behave, I don’t know how long to be there, I don’t know the rules of the place.
With all these confusions and questions I entered the Kalkaji Cremation Ground. There was a group of people who were leaving that place, probably the relatives, friends of someone who has been cremated adjacent to my friend’s father. Silence, moist eyes, wrinkles on forehead were the common gestures on everyone’s face. Suddenly, I spotted my colleagues who were standing and witnessing the ceremony. I went and stood beside them. My friend had just lit the pyre of his father, a father who was, a father who gave him birth, a father who taught him to walk, a father who taught him to speak, a father who taught him a lot more than what words can describe.
My eyes could hardly contain the water and were searching for my friend who was at the receiving end of this event. There he was, clad in white kurta payjama and janeu across his chest, standing near to pyre and staring at the fire. He was not the same person who used to shake hands every day in office, this person was different. It seemed that he was talking to his father for one last time, probably telling him how much he loved him and how much he is going to miss him. The priest there asked everyone standing in front to step back and called my friend to do the last rituals. After the last rituals were done everyone gathered in the adjacent walkway where the priest informed everyone about the rituals that would take place in subsequent days.
The gathering was dispersed post that and we had to exit by holding our hands in Namaste and facing all the family members of my friend who were standing at exit in a queue and at the end it was my friend. This was the most difficult part of the whole event. I don’t know if there is anything more difficult than looking into the eyes of a person who is in grief of losing his father, his brother, his son. Those red eyes are sad, they are helpless, they don’t wish to see anything in this world but the one who has left for his heavenly abode. I wanted to say a couple of words to my friend but my throat choked and eyes were almost blinded by tears. I just bowed down my head and walked past him.
We then went to a corner where we were supposed to wash faces and hands before leaving that place. Ironically, we all either have been or have to be at the place where my friend was today, but we never want to be.
May the soul of Mr. Sethi Rest In Peace.
New Year started with a new experience. A Cremation.
I was getting ready for office when the phone rang and a colleague informed me about the death of another colleague’s father. We were to visit the cremation ground before going to office now.
It made me sad to think about the loss of my friend, a loss that can never be recovered, a loss that is forever, a loss that is permanent. I halted the usual routine and started thinking about this till clock said that its time to leave for cremation.
It was for the first time in my life that I was to enter a cremation ground and it made me shiver. I don’t know what to say to my friend, I don’t know how to stand, I don’t know how to behave, I don’t know how long to be there, I don’t know the rules of the place.
With all these confusions and questions I entered the Kalkaji Cremation Ground. There was a group of people who were leaving that place, probably the relatives, friends of someone who has been cremated adjacent to my friend’s father. Silence, moist eyes, wrinkles on forehead were the common gestures on everyone’s face. Suddenly, I spotted my colleagues who were standing and witnessing the ceremony. I went and stood beside them. My friend had just lit the pyre of his father, a father who was, a father who gave him birth, a father who taught him to walk, a father who taught him to speak, a father who taught him a lot more than what words can describe.
My eyes could hardly contain the water and were searching for my friend who was at the receiving end of this event. There he was, clad in white kurta payjama and janeu across his chest, standing near to pyre and staring at the fire. He was not the same person who used to shake hands every day in office, this person was different. It seemed that he was talking to his father for one last time, probably telling him how much he loved him and how much he is going to miss him. The priest there asked everyone standing in front to step back and called my friend to do the last rituals. After the last rituals were done everyone gathered in the adjacent walkway where the priest informed everyone about the rituals that would take place in subsequent days.
The gathering was dispersed post that and we had to exit by holding our hands in Namaste and facing all the family members of my friend who were standing at exit in a queue and at the end it was my friend. This was the most difficult part of the whole event. I don’t know if there is anything more difficult than looking into the eyes of a person who is in grief of losing his father, his brother, his son. Those red eyes are sad, they are helpless, they don’t wish to see anything in this world but the one who has left for his heavenly abode. I wanted to say a couple of words to my friend but my throat choked and eyes were almost blinded by tears. I just bowed down my head and walked past him.
We then went to a corner where we were supposed to wash faces and hands before leaving that place. Ironically, we all either have been or have to be at the place where my friend was today, but we never want to be.
May the soul of Mr. Sethi Rest In Peace.
