the naked truth
My father passed away just about 25 years ago. He fought cancer for as long as he could. His resistance ended one night at that battleground in Mumbai — the KEM hospital. I was stirred awake to a sense of foreboding; minutes later my brother's calm, measured voice confirmed the end of the battle. We left for Goa in an ambulance around 10:00 a.m.
The rituals started early next morning. A steady stream of relatives telling us what to do, move here, pick this up, look there, offer this, say that — everything went on in slow motion almost. Then all rituals done at home, we proceeded to the crematorium.
They laid my father on a stack of wood and then proceeded to remove every stitch of clothing on his body. A small bunch of leaves were placed to protect his modesty. The sight of my father lying there, is something i can never forget.
I realised this is how you go. With absolutely nothing; not even a small wisp of cotton on you. Completely at peace.
Cut to another incident — completely different in terms of the emotion it brought up.
My daughter was born about 12 years ago. I was a bundle of nerves, pacing the corridor outside the delivery room. It was just about afternoon that a nurse handed over my daughter to me. All covered in some gooey liquid and little eyes just about the opening. Just a beautiful memory.
I realised that this is how we come into this world. With absolutely nothing. Completely at peace.
We lose parents, become parents ourselves. Life ends the way it begins. We come into this world completely starkers and leave the same way. Nature takes us back the way she sends us forth. We start at peace and end pretty peaceful.
What we do in the interim is up to us.
