How Deeply Did You Love!

206 bones, 600 muscles, 78 organs and one incredible life were neatly packed in a shiny copper jar. It was sealed so tight that there was no possibility for any leftover dreams or regrets to escape. 62 years of unconditional love turned into a pile of ashes right in front of my eyes.

I hold him on my lap wondering how come he is weighing so light suddenly. For once he is in my lap and I am not on his. People around me start to wander off. Close family members check on me to see if I am doing ok and then gather in different corners to dissect the death. I nod to anyone who passes by in gratitude. No words are needed. I have nothing to say. My sister nudges me and I get up holding onto what remains of his life. We stand around for a bit wondering what to do next. Unfortunately, there is no manual with guidelines that can tell me about what to do next.

My uncle suddenly shows up, hovering above me as he whispers gently, “what has happened here today is not good. You both are girls. I should have done the last rites. I am his only brother. Give me the ashes and I will do the immersion. At least that way your father can reach the gates of heaven.”

My sister’s face turns a peculiar shade of red. I know this shade. This colour always showed up in my childhood when I took her pencil box without asking. Or when Samir from class 9 tried to bully me in school. I know what happens when this shade of red turns darker. I hold her hand tightly. She understands and turns her face away. We wait for people to leave. A neighbour who has been my mate since I was 6 months old tells me he is taking mom home. I am relieved. She needs to rest. She will have to come to terms with losing the love of her life. He chose to walk a few steps behind her so she could shine in the light. They don’t make men like that anymore. Before mom leaves, I pull her aside, get my sister and three of us hug the jar tight together one last time while holding onto to each other. 

Three of us remain now.

I can see my uncle grumbling from the corner of my eye. He starts walking towards me again with a determination of a jackal on a hunt. Another friend who has been a mute spectator to this unwanted family drama suddenly steps into to offer her condolences to my uncle while giving me a look that says leave now. My sister and me get into the car and before my uncle can reach us, we are gone. I dare not look. Some ghosts are better left behind.

The journey seems longer than it is. I hold onto him as if I am holding a new born child.

“At least that way your father can reach the gates of heaven……..”

The words are humming like a bee in my head. I know there is no heaven or hell. There is only abundant sky and a million galaxies waiting for him. He had been ready. He had told me the previous evening that his end was near. We were alone at home. Just him and me. We spoke for hours. He was hungry to share. And then he looked at me and asked me to look after my mom and sister. “You are the strong one. You have always been,” I had held his hand and promised him knowing full well why he was asking me. A few minutes later he died in my arms while chanting Durga’s name. I did CPR on him for 45 minutes until the doctor arrived. I am told they had to pull me away from him, but I have no recollection of that. I sat with him the entire night keeping him company even though everyone had stopped referring to him as a person and was now addressing him as the “body”. 

A month ago I had a vivid dream one early morning. I saw him lying cold on the living room floor covered in flowers. Of course, I didn’t share the dream with anyone. I was too embarrassed. What kind of daughter wishes her father to be dead? But it all transpired exactly how I had seen in my dream. He wanted me to be there when it happened and that is why he told me a month ago. To this day, no one in my family knows that I knew his end was near. Some secrets are better left in the pandoras box.

We reach the seashore. It’s a lovely evening. We remove our shoes and walk on the sand feeling the sadness beneath our soles. We keep going until we are halfway in water, and then open the jar carefully as if we don’t want to hurt him. As I scatter my father into the waves, I see him slowly melting into the salt and sinking to the depths of the ocean where the the beautiful mermaids reside. When the jar is empty, we stand for a while with puffy eyes, runny nose and a heart that is in denial. The man who taught me to walk is now swimming at last.

A shooting pain rips my body into shreds as I feel a giant space opening up in my heart. I know nothing or no one is ever going to fill it.

We sit on the sand until its dark, waiting for the stars to arrive. As the tiny silver dots start twinkling above, we wonder how far he must have gone by now. The dark sky and the ocean have merged into one another creating a giant abyss of chaos. I guess, this is the final goodbye.

In the end 206 bones, 600 muscles, or 78 organs don’t matter.

Only one thing matters.

Only one thing.

How Deeply did you love!

PS : My father passed away in October 1996 during Navratri. He was an ardent worshipper of the Goddess. He took his last breath on the fourth day of the festival at 8:10 pm which happened to be the most auspicious muhurat of the festival. There are no coincidences in life. He chose his time to transcend.

A giant hole remains in my heart to this date. Even my cats have not been able to fill it.

#writewithosdotme