The Note Unsent.

The 31st of December 2024. I got down to the happy task of posting new year messages to friends and family. It was around 10 pm, and I had just got started. My school group, the most active for reasons mentioned below, soon flashed an urgent message. Our classmate, Rupa Dasgupta, retired scientist, intrepid traveler, a literature enthusiast, and a dear friend, had breathed her last.  She had been unwell a couple of months, flitting in and out of hospital, fighting and struggling against all odds, only to lose the battle, untimely for us, but a great relief for her. 

It took a while to read and register the ultimate truth. Then the shock and sadness set in. What was there to celebrate in the new year! The messages remained unsent. The night passed in thought...even the merriment and crackers ushering in the new year seemed jaded. The new dawn finally helped me see reason. I called dear friends who had remained in constant touch and conveyed to the group the medical updates. It was little solace to learn that it was a rest she had been yearning for. But the final parting was difficult to accept. I had met her after a gap of 50 long years. I have known her as an extremely responsible and dutiful person, I came to admire her for her simplicity and straightforwardness. 

The first week of the new year quickly jolted me back to reality. There were urgent issues waiting for my attention and probably, it was Gods way to cushion us, mere mortals from drowning in sorrow and loss. Now, I could devote all my time to learning and discovering the transient nature of life and death. The relationship between the living and dead.

Growing up, I do not recall family members speaking of Death within my hearing. Also, in my family, womenfolk were never encouraged to visit the family where death had occurred to pay respect to the departed. For many years, conditioned by these thoughts, I found it difficult to say my final goodbyes to my loved ones. Added to this, was also the custom of only male members being present and participating in the final death rituals at the Crematorium. And that is why, I came to believe that my mother and grandmother were as clueless as I was. Now,  I know better.

What I remember most clearly though, are my grandmother's words to my grandfather on such occasions. Often, on returning from the cremation ground, the Shamshan Ghat, my grandfather would speak about the futility of life. My grandmother would say....that is Vairagyam..a feeling of renunciation which comes after a visit to the crematorium. On those few rare days when maybe she couldn't help herself, she'd speak out loud...." Life is really very short. Why get angry and shout at your loved ones and spoil the harmony of the home?" Even then, I felt it was a timely rebuke of my grandfather's reprehensible habit of getting angry for no rhyme or reason and always, targeting the family members, the unfortunate victims of his angry, vitriolic, uncontrollable, outbursts. Today, the words elude me, the feeling of impotent fear remains. 

I remember an incident, not too long after the birth of my first child. I was traveling back home in an auto rickshaw, which was a popular mode of transport those days, for small groups of people headed to the same destination. Suddenly, the auto I was travelling in, met with an accident, a little way from home. It skidded and turned on its side, dragging us along for a few kilometers. The elderly couple sitting beside me started screaming with fear, the young mother and her son, who bore the brunt of the fall, were bleeding profusely.

I was seated in the middle and sure of imminent death, I offered a prayer to God. I had left my six month old child in my mother's care and prayed that she may be taken care of lovingly. And all of a sudden, with a jolt, the speeding vehicle came to a sudden stop and the screams of the public drew me out of my stupor. They were baying for the auto driver who had vanished instantaneously. The bleeding young mother gave me the number of her house and requested me to inform her family about the accident as helpful bystanders were preparing to take her to the hospital. The elderly couple were being helped by the ever growing crowd of people. I was surprised and shocked to note that I could stand up effortlessly on my feet. I slowly got up, stepped out of the tilted auto, unnoticed, and made my way across the road, still dazed and in a state of shock. Someone offered me a ride home, I refused. But I knew the dispensary was nearby. 

I walked in, only to find the friendly Lady doctor in her chamber. As she greeted me and asked me to take my seat, tears gushed out and I was able to narrate my fearful experience to her. She gave me a patient hearing and calmed me down. Only then did I notice the bruises on my hands and legs and pain in every bone and muscle. She refused to write me a prescription as it could well turn out to be a police case, but she wrote down some medication on a piece of paper and wished me well. 

Now, I knew, it was my moral duty to inform the family of the injured young lady and her son. We were strangers, but I felt bound to her by the will of God. Determined,  I walked about five blocks to inform the family and then walked back, all the way home. The sense of shock transformed to gratitude, I held my daughter tight in my arms. My mother, a very reticent individual, was already preparing to leave and I don't remember her feeling empathy.  I did take the painkillers but the real pain haunted me for a long long time. 

My second close encounter with real death was the passing away of my young cousin. He was only a couple of years older than me, we had been childhood playmates. He was in his late twenties and was a special child. He was a sharp young man, well informed and great company. His death was sudden and unexpected and it broke our hearts. That was the first time I experienced the pain and  helplessness of parents, my uncle and aunt. As he regained composure, my uncle repeated again and again, that to carry the dead body of his young son on his shoulders was indeed a punishment from God.

It was not the time for me to disagree with him. Even in the act of snatching away the most loved one, God had displayed his kindness. Death could have come to anybody, but He ensured that the young one had been lovingly cared for. Could my aunt and uncle have ever faced death leaving him behind? Death is cruel, it most often comes when one is not ready. Then It leaves behind a life time of suffering and sorrow. Sometimes it comes as a relief to one or the family one leaves behind. The untold misery it causes! Some never heal. Others heal with time. 

Yet the death of my uncle took me some time to come to terms with. He was my father's cousin, but remained my most beloved uncle. Before leaving on a holiday to visit my daughter, I called him to inform him that I would be away for a long period of time.  Soon, he sent me a message saying he was not keeping well. I did not understand the extent of his illness. I wished him a speedy recovery and promised to meet him  as soon as I returned. It was not to be, he passed away within a month of the message and I regretted not having called and spoken to him. Over the years, I have lost my parents and my mother in law. Definitely I was grief stricken but I'm unable to find words to describe my sorrow. I feel their absence more today. I wish I could have done a hundred things, differently. The tinge of regret, remains. 

But it was not without another precious learning - Time and Tide wait for no man, nor does Death.  So, these days, I always remember to tell people, who matter, how important they are to me. I want them to be sure they know how much brighter my world is because they are in it.  I make it a point to be present with the family of the departed and share in their sorrow. I also came to realize that time is a great healer and that it is easier and kinder to meet the bereaved family within a fortnight of the passing away of a loved one. 

A few years ago, another death brought home a glorious and comforting side of death. I lost my dear father in law, a pillar of loving and strong support. He was a very gentle soul, happy-go-lucky by nature, very calm and silently strong in his ways. He went to bed, as usual, after celebrating Deepawali with his family and friends. We pray and believe, he passed away in his sleep, peacefully, sometime early, the next morning. It was with a sense of shock and disbelief that we accepted this news and my mother in law's mature handling of the passing away taught us a lesson in grieving. Sometimes, Death can cease to be frightening. Sometimes it can be an inevitable end to the glorious chapter called life.