My father in law passed away recently. Here are the questions I asked myself.

Sep 5

5 min read

Pappa’s body lay on the floor.

He was delicately wrapped in clean and new white sheets. Another sheet lay underneath him.

His feet were together, arms on his belly under the sheets. Only his face was visible. He looked at peace. As if he would break into a smile any moment.

He did look different- they had shaved his moustache and hair at the hospital. But his face was bright. His skin still glowing.

Chants played, and people came to pay respects.

I wondered- who is it that we love? The body? The energy that inhabits the body? A combination of both?

Who are we mourning? Who are we going to miss?

I don’t know the answer but it’s not the body alone. The body was still with us but Pappa was gone.

So who was gone then? The energy, the consciousness that was Pappa?

Body is the tool through which consciousness expresses itself. The body makes the intangible spirit, tangible.

But I have never been clearer that there are two things - the body and the consciousness.

Body is just the container for the consciousness. Without consciousness - the body is inert.

Without the body, the consciousness seems like it would be at peace, but maybe it has some things it wants to do. The body helps it do that.

We are first consciousness - and then second body.

Finally Pappa was laid on a wooden lattice and four men lifted him on their shoulders. Taking him on his final journey to the cremation place. The body was finally returning to the elements.

There were beautiful rites before - anointing the vessel that carried Pappa’s spirit in flowers and fabrics and coconuts and holy substances. The body deserved that honor for supporting him for so many years. For being his spirit’s companion for so many days. --

Who do we collect for?

Deepak, my husband, the eldest son and his brother were going to do the last rites. Custom dictates that they shorn their heads. The barber came. Chair was placed. He was ready.

But they needed newspapers to lay on the floor and collect their hair that was going to fall as the heads were shaved. So I went upstairs to the flat to bring some.

They are in a suitcase in the cabinet - Deepak had told me. I picked up a stack.

In the cabinet there were other things in plastic bags. There were even more things in other cabinets. Towels, sheets, papers we think we need, shoes, clothes, bottles, medicines, books. Things we once used and no longer need.

Who do we collect for? Why do we collect?

We think we will live forever. We will have ample opportunity to use all of these things. Even tho in a few days, we forget what we have and keep collecting.

But then life ends suddenly. In a moment.

And all these things just stay. Collecting dust. What was useful once becomes noise and junk. All the wires and papers and towels and sheets feel useless and empty. It’s so futile.

And also a painful memory of the person who collected them.

Let go of stuff. Let go of stuff when you can. Both physically and mentally. Or life will anyways separate you.

--

How do I get over the fact that Pappa will never walk into a room again?

Next day, 430am, Pappa’s phone rang. It was his alarm.

Deepak and I were in the room. Already awake.

As we looked around for the source of the sound and realized what it was, it dawned once again on us that he is no more.

A wave of grief washed over us.

He will no longer be picking up the phone, swiping to silence his alarm, answering any calls, looking at WhatsApp. His phone just sits there. A silent reminder of his absence.

I love a spicy kind of potato chip that Pappa used to bring for me. I will no longer hear Pappa tell me- Somya beta, I got these chips for you.

Through the day, I keep expecting him to walk through the door. Smiling. Saying something in Sindhi that I won’t understand.

Last night as all the people in the house talked, I realized I missed his voice. His way of talking quickly with his particular intonation. --

Death is so final. There is no coming back.

Not like- please come back for one more moment- let’s say bye to you. I know deepak wanted to say bye.

Or can we have one more day with you.

Or tell us how you felt when you lost consciousness.

It’s final. There is just no coming back from death.

The finality feels cruel. I find myself falling on my knees, face in my hand, sobs shuddering through me as the finality of Death hits me.

When someone leaves the body, what’s left is a void. A vaccum instead of the place they used to occupy in the world. Slowly that vacuum fills - that is Healing I suppose.

I hope.

That void is so hard to be in. I think the rituals were designed as much as for the departed soul as much for the existing family to keep them busy.

I know Pappa is not the only one who died that day. So many people die every day. I feel his grief more as I knew him personally. So I cry for him.

But I also cry for life itself. The way we live our life not really understanding who we are, where we have come from and where we will go.

How this can end anytime.

How we are not the body. We are the energy in the body.

How all these things we collect will stay behind.

Gurudev says when we leave, we will come face to face with two questions- how much knowledge did you gain? How much love did you give?

For Pappa- only he can answer the first. But for the second, I think the answer was ‘a lot, a lot’.

Looking at all the messages and number of people who showed up, and in my personal experience- the answer to the second is ‘a lot’.

Gurudev often asks - when you buy a pot, do you pay for the clay or the space?

Can the pot exist without space? A lump of clay is not space.

Can a pot exist without clay? Without clay, it’s only space.

So when you buy a pot, do you pay for the clay or the space?

If I knew the answer to that, I would know the answer to the first question.