Saturday 26 July 2014

The Death of My Grandfather

What is death? Whenever I brood over it, I fail to come into any kind of concrete conclusion. The very thought of death does not haunt me but makes my mindscape simply blank. Death and its concept are then certainly empty. Nothing crosses my mind. The more I think, the more I get blank. The simple chain of cause and effect cannot be thus applied to death when it comes to explaining the event. The very concept of death, I suppose, is beyond the epistemological paradigm or anything of that sort.  

I have seen many deaths, much like births. A common phenomenon! An inevitable truth! However, hardly had there been occasions when I thought about it. I have simply found nothing speculative. Even if I force myself to speculate upon death, I give it up in the mid way. May be I am looking upon it from a very personal standpoint.

I remember the death of my grandfather was followed by a huge procession. Carrying him upon our shoulders, we all moved to Aashram where he had spent the last phase of his life - a long 20 years and from there we headed towards the crematorium to conduct the obsequies rites. He was a very renowned person. He set up the Aashram which became his obsession later on. He devoted himself to the lotus feet of God. He denied the luxury of life and chose to live with other hermits under the same roof.

I heard from my mother that he was a nice person and he loved me the most when I was barely 1 or 2 years old. However, why he chose to stay at Ashram was not quite clear to me till a certain point of time. As far as I know, there was no obligation. Whatsoever the reason, it was his decision and I respect it. He never ever had been the part of our life, but his presence was very much there. Deep down I knew I had a grandfather. Even in his absence, our parents never felt like orphan.

To be very honest, the death of grandfather did not sadden me. I did not feel like crying while others did so. I felt absolutely nothing. Perhaps the years of separation did not have any impact upon my mind. It's an event that, I suppose, silently took place. At times I feel myself very guilty. Am I selfish? Don’t I love grandfather? Why did not his death have an impact upon me? Why couldn't I cry while other cried a lot? Several questions crossed my mind and they still have remained unanswered. And I stopped finding those answers, for whenever I do so, I feel restless. I feel struck and I feel myself in a void – a void that can never be replenished by any means, by any explanation. 

Years rolled on since his death. Life has changed a lot. So has changed the Aashram – the most favourite place of my grandfather. It has to change for it is the rule of life itself. Nothing remains static or as usual as it used to be. So many contemporaries of my grandfather have already passed away. A few are left though and they will also die someday quite naturally and inevitably crossing the mundane boundary of time and place.

Now I accept my indifference towards my grandfather’s death. I believe it is less of an indifference and more of an acceptance, not passive certainly but brooding of sort. The old adage as goes “Time and tide waits for none” will apply to my life too. And I will grow old someday and will die quite silently being unnoticed, I guess, like my grandfather. I hope so.
   

    

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