I feel the need to write this...
The past few days has given me my first-hand experience of
my fundamental Hindu belief that our journey on earth is temporary while the
divinity inside us is permanent. My father breathed his last, peacefully in his
sleep on Monday, April 4 at 8 am. Call it intuition or whatever but my anxiety
levels were high since Friday. After concerning reports of my father’s health
during that week, I booked tickets to India with the intention of taking him to
the hospital myself to oversee his treatment. Nothing prepared me for what I
saw when I reached home on Monday afternoon. Nothing.... it was like my heart just plunged into a vacuum.
Or maybe Krishna did give me signs that I did not catch very well. After talking with Dad on the phone on Wednesday and Thursday, my prayer was a sketch of Vasudeva carrying the Lord through the rain and the rising Yamuna. The Lord realizing the pain of His father, puts His tiny feet out to quell the raging waters. KRISHNA, protect my Dad too!
Since you don’t know him, let me tell you briefly about him, my
father, through my eyes. He lived a full active life of 80 years, a principled
self-made man, who lived life on his own terms. He left his hometown when he
was barely 20, worked on a ship for some years, settled in Doha, established
himself and retired voluntarily as the head of the then Sheikh’s travel
company. He and my mother raised me and my brother with the same principles and
a love that makes us who we are today, his proud children. He would write every
penny he spent in his diary and tally them
meticulously multiple times and lived with pride without depending on anyone. He was always
the first person to help a neighbor, to write to the local newspaper on social
issues and no one went empty handed who knocked on our door. He has been my
mother’s caregiver for the past 18 years until the last 2 years when he found
himself with stage 3 Prostrate Cancer with bone mets. The last 4 months had been particularly difficult with multiple fractures but he did not worry us with his pain and discomfort, always sounding cheerful on the phone. He took care of
his personal needs to his last day and even sorted my mother’s medicines,
repaired her reading glasses and had his milk, rested his head on the pillow
and left knowing that I will be home in a few hours to take care of mother. He left with a dignity that makes my Dad, my Dad.
We have rituals ordained by our scriptures for 13 days which they
say is for my father’s soul’s passage but I feel it is more for us, the living,
to reflect on life. Relatives and friends rallied around us for those days and whether we are orthodox or not, the customs and Sanskrit
chanting have been cathartic. My brother and I made a road trip
to my father’s hometown with his ashes as it was his wish that we immerse it in
the Arabian Sea. Back to the 5 basic elements.
