LIFE AFTER DEATH

My Late father would now be a 4-year-old boy!!!

Last few days I have been mulling about the loss of my Mamu (maternal uncle) and more recently a grandmother (my father’s favorite aunt). My mind wanders to what their families must be going through. When someone dies, the ones who are left behind are the ones who are in that excruciating pain of loss. Someone leaves behind wife and kids, someone leaves behind children, grandchildren, someone leaves behind a father or mother. The young deaths are the most painful. What one keeps wondering is that why was that person’s journey cut short? We conclude that person’s purpose in life was not fulfilled? My uncle was the gentlest soul ever and the grandmother was my father’s idea of “the” perfect lady. Both were excellent examples of good Human soul. I could feel the sadness of losing them quite deeply. But I was then suddenly reminded of something which always comes to my mind when I think of my own late father. My father or Baba as I called him, was my biggest fan, perhaps the only man who thought I am as good and accomplished as anyone can get. That’s perhaps every father’s biased view of his daughter. My heart used to swell with those happy emotions when he used to praise me before everyone or when he used to chide my mother if she would complain about me for whatever reason.

When I think of him very distinct things come to my mind. He was a man of taste. Be it clothes, shoes, food his choices were always classy. He was a man of few words but had a wicked sense of humour. My mother used to be the receiving end of his jokes most of the times. He was staying with me in my house when he fell ill. Multiple illness at the same time. His kidney’s, lungs all gave away. Thirty minutes before he passed away, I had hurried back from office. He and my mother were to visit the doctor for a routine check-up. He was unwilling to have lunch. So, mother entrusted me with the responsibility of feeding him. He obliged with two spoons of food and then refused. Sometime later both of them went down. After about 5 mins I received a frantic call from my mother that Baba has fainted and totally unresponsive. I rushed down, he was sitting in the back seat of the car and looked like he had dozed off. I saw death from close quarters. I immediately realized he was no more but took him to the hospital for declaration . All through that time my mother was trying to wake him up while I was sitting silently, helpless, too stunned to cry or even tell her that he was no more. Later in the hospital when some formalities were being done, I sat in the car with him, holding his warm hands, before they would turn cold. Memories of my childhood, my adolescent years, his jokes, our discussions along with my brother, everything was fast forwarding. I was holding onto his hands thinking this is the last time ever that I will hold my father’s hand or see him. He has gone forever leaving me fatherless.

After a few days my mother’s eldest sister called to speak with my inconsolable mother. My aunt (Mausi) is a wise lady with many anecdotes which have great meaning. She told a folklore which touched my heart and mind. The story goes, there was a king who after years of difficulty in having children, had a son, heir to his throne. He and his wife were very happy and so was his entire kingdom. The prince was a nice boy and was loved by the people. At the age of 18 he fell ill. The illness was long and painful and after a few months he passed away. His parents were distraught. The king started praying to Lord Brahma (the creator). Lord Bramha finally appeared after the king’s intense prayers. The king pleaded to the lord to bring his son back to life. To this the lord said,” I can bring your son back, but you need to first ask your son’s soul what he wishes”. Hindu’s believe the soul of the deceased remains attached to the body and stays around till the final rituals are done. So, the prince’s soul was around waiting for his next journey. When the king asked the soul what his wish was, the soul replied, “I have no father, no mother, I am no prince, my work here is done. I must move on. Also, why are you inviting me to this sick body. I will move on from here and have a new body and hopefully have a good next journey as a new person. Soul is free of all worldly ties. Let me go and complete my journey”. Hearing this the king was heartbroken but understood what the soul explained. My mother after the phone call with Aunt, told me the story but did not seem to have understood the meaning or looked pacified in any way. But for me it was a moment of enlightenment. We Hindu’s and some other religions believe in rebirth, life after death. So, I imagined my father must have been born somewhere by now. I imagined him as a new born baby being loved by his next life’s mother and family. He looked happy. Why would he wish to come back to an ailing body?

Hinduism refers death as “Mahaprasthana” or the “great journey”. The holy books say, when the lessons of this life have been learnt and karmas reach a point of intensity, the soul leaves the physical body. The awareness, memory and intelligence of current and earlier lives continues to exist with the soul. Death is a most natural experience, not to be feared. It is a quick transition from the physical world to the astral plane, like walking through a door, leaving one room and entering another. At death we drop off the physical body and continue evolving in the inner worlds in our subtle bodies, until we again enter into birth. We are actually not the body in which we live, but the immortal soul. The soul which inhabits many bodies in its evolutionary journey.

When someone dies, he leaves behind a grieving family. The ones left behind mourn, but the soul lives on. “The soul of your loved one lives on”, Isn’t that a good thought? Isn’t that something to hang on to. Isn’t that something to wish for a loved one. I have my own personal moments when I terribly miss my father, I mourn for him, but the moment this picture comes to my mind my heart sort of sighs with relief. Many people have experienced this loss. Lost their loved ones forever. But come to think of it, those who left the world, their time was done, their purpose was fulfilled, just like ours will be one day. When our time comes the soul will leave the body and pass on to another body with a new set of loving parents. My kids were very small when my father passed away. Not old enough to understand that Aja (Maternal grandfather) was not coming back or understand the complicated emotions of the adult’s life. But I found the above thought so soothing, I told my kids the same. They seemed to believe it with all sincerity. So now when my little daughter tells me” Mumma, Aja must be 4 years old now, isn’t it? He must be little younger than me. Do you think he is naughty?”. It brings a smile to my face and a moment of happiness, for I believe that baba lives on as a happy boy somewhere and will perhaps live on even after I am gone….