Chaithought: The circle of life

To love is to open yourself up to the inevitability of loss. The loss of family is one where you hardly get an option to not have loved from the get-go.

Bhuli duniya kabhi ki, tujhe bhi, mujhe bhi, fir kyu aankh bhar aayi...

The run-up to this New Year's Eve and the following few days were extraordinary. Things almost seem surreal now that I'm on the other side.

There was a death in the family a few days ago. Our grandmother passed away. I say "our" because she was mother/grandmother/great-grandmother to an immediate family of no less than 60+ people. We called her Aaiji.

It all began with a phone call from home about her health having deteriorated. In the blur of the next few hours, flights were booked, bags were packed, and we headed home.

We were an hour too late. Everything was the same yet different. People were there already. The close family was in her room and sitting around her as usual. The only difference was that she was there, yet not. Tears flowed freely, some silent, others more expressive. Till we sent her off finally, it was all sombre. But slowly, the pall started to lift. There was almost a feeling of relief on her behalf. Old age and the myriad health issues that accompany it had caught up with her, and she wanted to be free. Her life was not just long but also big and well-lived. She saw three generations following her. The huge gathering of family and friends for the days following her death was a fitting send-off to a life that thrived at the centre of a big crowd.

If a life spans almost ten decades, you see almost everything — the good, the bad, and the ugly. A feeling of disillusionment might creep in slowly without you having realized it did. Many significantly younger people already face it. But I never saw that in her. She was always eager to meet people, to eat delicious food, and to live, in general. A plethora of medication and caretakers — family and others — surrounded her, but she didn't seem daunted.

She passed in the big room that has been a gathering place for many family meetings. I would like to think that was her favourite place. She seemed to have known that the play was drawing to a close because she called, met, and remembered as many loved ones as she could. The night before when things were critical and I was waiting to fly back home, it wasn't easy to sleep. But when I did doze off briefly, I got one of my bizarre dreams in which she said goodbye to me. It could have been my mind trying to come to terms with the impending eventuality, but I would like to think it was her way of expressing her love and providing me closure one last time.

As life goes on, as it always does, I'll hold onto these cherished memories of her. Returning home and leaving won't be the same without her to greet and say goodbye to. She was always overjoyed when I went back home and disappointed if it wasn't a long stay. I'm almost choked with memories as I write this because nostalgia is such a pain. But as they say, nostalgia means you've lived a life worth living.

Until next time.

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