Doubly Cursed

It happened at a small place in Puri District of Odisha.

It was an arranged marriage. As per tradition, the bride’s brother had come as bardhara to formally invite the groom to come to their house for the marriage. The groom was getting elegantly dressed up for the occasion for starting in the decked up vehicle for the marriage-procession. At that time, a minor electrical fault in the room was noticed. A person climbed up an wooden stool to rectify it. He asked the groom to help him and the groom readily agreed.

Then all hell broke loose. Accidentally, the groom had touched a live electric wire. The death was instantaneous. The bardhara had to go back, carrying the sad news.
As per tradition, mangalakrutya (the bride ritually and ceremonially being made to sit on a grinding stone, other married ladies applying haldi paste on her limbs and bathing her) had already been performed on the previous day. Also, she had been bathed in badua pani (traditional water) which had symbolized the imminent end of her unmarried life. Tradition dictates that a mangula kanya (a girl who has undergone the process of mangalakrutya) can no longer remain in the parental house; she has got to be married off, post haste. This is done by very quickly finding out a suitable groom (dubbed Dhara Bara - literally, a caught groom) and marrying her off to him.
The girl’s parents and relatives did locate a groom and the marriage took place. The bride moved to the new groom’s house.

After spending two days there (but before the nuptial with the boy), the girl, who was highly educated, found that the boy was only low-educated. She was not ready to suffer her whole life with this semi-literate person. She preferred to go back to her to her parents’ house even with the prospect of remaining a spinster throughout her life.

Fortunately for her, the boy let her go.

And she returned.

Many questions remain unanswered:

Will she remarry?

Legally, she is a married woman, although she had had no physical relation with her ‘husband’. If she decides to remarry, she has first, to be got divorced from her present ‘husband’.  

How will the society look upon her? 

As a brave woman? A challenger of fate?

A far-fetched simile comes to mind. Should she have continued to stay in the house of her ‘husband’ and force him, goad him, to be educated like the highly learned princess, Kalidas’s wife did? 

Would it have been possible? Is it possible to make a legend a real event in a real life?

It may be recalled that this princess was very well-conversant with the Shstras and stipulated the condition that she would agree to marry only a person who would defeat her in a debate. Many eligible and wise persons came seeking her hands but no one could defeat her in the debate, A few of such persons saw the foolish Kalidas cutting from the stem, a branch on which he was sitting. To teach the princess a lesson, they manipulated things and took Kalidas to her father. They told the King that Kalidas was a very learned man but was on a vow of silence; he would answer the princess’s questions only with gestures. During the debate, the princess mistook Kalidas’s gestures, took him to be a very learned person and thought that she had lost to him in the debate. So, she agreed to marry him. The marriage was solemnized. Soon after, she found out that he was actually a fool and was an unlettered man. So she asked him to leave. On the way back, Kalidas got the blessings of Saraswati, the goddess of learning, and became a really learned man. He went to her; she accepted him and they lived happily ever after.

POST SCRIPT, 20th May:

Subsequent reports say that the 'husband' whom the girl had left, got married to another girl soon after.

Sorrow From Cancer

In my last post ‘Joy of Cancer’, I had narrated about one of my close friends who had been afflicted by blood cancer.

He succumbed to the disease in the night of last Saturday, the 10th November. I received the news the next morning. I calculated that when he was taking one of his last breaths, I was having dinner at the marriage reception of one of my nieces.    

On receiving the news on Sunday morning, I rushed to his house. His body was encased in a frozen state inside a glass casket with ice. The family was waiting for the arrival of his younger daughter and son-in-law from Nigeria. They reached in the morning of Monday and soon after, his body was taken to ‘Swargadwar’ in Puri fror cremation. ‘Swargadwar’ literally means ‘gateway to heaven’. It is located near the temple of Lord Jagannath. In Odisha, it is believed that when a body is cremated in Swargadwar, the soul reaches salvation. I was there to bid him the final ‘goodbye’ when the vehicle carrying his body left his house for the final journey. Fittingly, the words ‘sheshayatra’ (final journey) was written on the rear of the vehicle. I looked on till the vehicle disappeared into the bend of the road.

After death, a person becomes a ‘body’! Talking of body, I am reminded of a scene in a T V Serial in which a accident occurs and several persons die. A man looking for his brother comes and enquires in the hospital where the injured were admitted. The person at the reception checks the list and says, “Your brother’s name is not in the list. Some unidentified bodies are kept in the morgue. Go and check.” The first man gets enraged and shouts, “What do you talk of ‘body’? He is my brother.” One man’s ‘brother’ becomes ‘a body’ for another!

My friend’s problem was detected on the 20^th July and he lived exactly for 3 months and 22 days after that.

He was an established writer of short stories. His stories contained delicate and powerful emotions and human relations and were not of the run-of-the-mill ‘boy-meets-girl’ type. For his creative writings, he had received several Awards including the Sahitya Akademi Award. He was in the Jury for selecting books for Sarala Puraskar, an award for excellence in Odia literature, established by a well-known industrial house. He could not attend the function to release his latest collection of short stories as he had just been admitted to the hospital at Vellore. A review of this book was published in a newspaper and I had read it out to him over phone when he was in the hospital-bed.

After our studies, both of us had appeared at the State Civil Services Examination. I stood First in it and he occupied the Second Position. A month after joining this service, I left it to join a Public Sector Bank. When I was leaving, he quipped, “Now I have become Adwitiya (second to none”. He was referring to the fact that he was no longer second in seniority in that batch.

Good bye, dear friend! 

Post Script

I read a piece by Mukul Sharma in the Economic Times of 12.09.2013.  He has quoted from Cancer Ward by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, "It happens rarely, but there are cases of sel-induced healing... Due to some reason, the tumour starts in the opposite direction, gets smaller, resolves and disappears." The International Noetic Institute found medically-reported cases of spontaneous healing. There is a possibility that the altered state of prayer, religious faith and medication may allow the process of self-repair greater freedom to operate. "Neurotheology, a new field which seeks to discover the neurobiological basis of spirituality and health, tells us that the well being of our body depends almost slowly on the strength of our belief in ourselves.", Mukul Sharma says.   

'Joy' of Cancer

In my post ‘Death Shall Die II’ of the 30^th March, 2012, I have narrated about my visit to a relative dying of blood cancer. He died a few days after our visit. Now I have come face to face with another case of blood cancer. One of my closest friends, a retired senior Govt. officer and reputed short story writer, has got the same affliction. He retired a little earlier than me. His house is close to mine. My house is located near the route of his morning walk. Very often, he would drop in. (I do not need walks as I get enough exercise working in my garden in the mornings and afternoons.) He would straight go to my garden, I used to stop whatever I would be doing and then we would sit and talk about topics from kings to cabbages for about an hour or so and then he would leave. Often I used to give him some flowers and other produce from my garden.

I also used to visit him occasionally.

Suddenly, he stopped coming for what seemed an unusual period. When I telephoned to him, his son received my call and told me that my friend was suffering from fever for quite sometime and was sleeping at that time. During the preceding one month or so, he used to have fever rather frequently. I telephoned to him after a few days. This time, his daughter received the call (on his cell phone) and told me that they were in the hospital at Vellore and he had been diagnosed for blood cancer! I felt crest-fallen. I did not know what to say and only the word “What?” escaped my lips. Our conversation ended after exchanging a few words. My next call was received by his son-in-law, who informed me that my friend had responded well to the initial treatment and that the chances of his recovery were bright. My next call was received by my friend himself and his voice appeared confident. He felt happy talking to me. I felt equally happy.

For the next one month, I called him once a week and things appeared to be reassuring. He used to ask me to read out the headlines in the local Odia newspapers which I did gladly. Once a review of his latest book of short stories appeared in a local newspaper and I read it out for him. He was very happy. After staying at Vellore for about two months, he was advised that he could return to Bhubaneswar and have the follow-up treatment by regular visits to a local hospital. When I called him up the subsequent time, he was in a local hospital. But to my disappointment and apprehension, his voice was weak. His family-members told me that doctors had advised against his having any visitor.

Then he was discharged and the treatment is continuing at home. When I called his home, his son told me that he had been quarantined to avoid any possible infection as the immunity system of his body has become weak. I have been talking to him every week and his voice continues to be weak. Last week, I spoke to his son and told him that I deeply wished to see my friend once, even if for a few minutes. He agreed and so my wife and I went with a heavy heart to meet my friend. We met his wife, son and other members of his family. Then my friend came with a slow gait. The hairs on his head have fallen off due to the effect of chemotherapy. He came wearing a mask covering his mouth and nose to prevent any possible infection. I spoke to him briefly after which he went back inside.    

  

My friend is a person of joyous nature and always used to talk with a lot of enthusiasm. Those were missing when I met him.

A couple of weeks before meeting him, I had come across an article titled ‘Joy of Cancer’ in an Odia daily. A part of this article was about the book ‘The Joy of Cancer’ by Anup Kumar. I found out some more about this book in the net. It is not only about the emotional and physical  anguish following the diagnosis of cancer but also about the power of human mind and body to turn ‘a death sentence’ around. It is said that the real experts on cancer are only the cancer-patients themselves. The book deals with questions like these:

- How do you accept cancer in your life?

- How do you conquer the fear?

- What are the side effects of chemotherapy? What precautions should you take?

From the net I read about the 10 good things about having cancer listed by Michele R Berman, M D. a cancer-survivor. The author says that the first good thing is finding out that “I was stronger than I was, with God’s help.” Some other good things listed in the book are: finding out what great people you have in your life, discovering your inner control freak or other part of yourself, being able to come up with creative answers when you don’t want to talk about something.

I had lost to cancer another close friend of mine, who succumbed to it at the age slightly above 50 years. He was a bachelor and is survived by his sister, a spinster and elder to him. He had no other sister or brother. She lives in my city and when we meet, we reminisce about him. To end his own suffering and the difficulties of his family-members, my elder brother’s father-in-law committed suicide by jumping before a running train when he realized that he had no escape from the clutches of cancer.

In 2006, there was a small growth at a spot on my body. It was diagnosed as a cyst and after trying oral medicine, my doctor advised a minor surgery to remove it. After the surgery, it was sent for examination to find if the growth was malignant. The test result was negative. I have never seen my wife as happy when she saw the report. She lost no time in telephoning all our relatives and friends to tell them about the test-finding.

In the early 70’s I had watched the film ‘Anand’ starring Rajesh Khanna and Amitabh Bachan. In this, Rajesh Khanna plays the title role and Amitabh plays the role of his doctor. The protagonist, Anand, is a cancer-patient. Fully knowing that he had only a couple of months to live, and as if to justify his name, he spreads joy (anand) and cheer all around him. Here is the film.

I am trying to get and read the book. I am not able to decide whether I should present a copy of the book to my friend or to suggest to him to watch the film ‘Anand’ as both Anup Kumar and the Anand had ultimately succumbed to the life-taking illness.     

I don’t want to lose my friend.

Pray for him.

Death Shall Die II

Death Be Not Proud

Last Monday, we went to the ICU of a local hospital to see a relative suffering from cancer. He was under life-support system. The situation was grim. An oxygen mask was fixed covering his nose and mouth. He was breathing rather heavily. The eye-lids were fixed. The eyes were open and had a fixed stare. He was not blinking. And in the morning of Tuesday, we received the news that he was no more. We visited the grieving family that day.

The image of his blink-less eyes has been permanently fixed in my mind.

My mind travels down the cases where I was a witness to dying or dead persons. As a child I was told about the death of my baby-sister, my only sister. I was too young to remember the scene. In our place babies who die in infancy, are buried and not cremated like older persons who die. As such, my baby-sister was buried. I remember being told by my family-members that when the people who took her for burial came back, I ran after them with a threatening stick asking them why they had taken away my sister.

I was not present when my father and later, my mother died. Our custom does not permit keeping a dead body for long to become ‘stale’. Where a person dies at night, the body is cremated the same night. As such I did not have the chance to see the bodies of my father or mother. My father died suddenly soon after retirement from Govt. service. My mother lived till she was past eighty. I had last seen her about a fortnight before her death.

I was not present when my brother, just elder to me, died. I arrived soon after the death of my younger brother, saw his body and participated in his cremation. His elder son gave the mukhagni. I was not present when my father-in-law suddenly died of heart-failure. I had last seen my ailing and hospitilised mother-in-law about a week before her death. I had attended her cremation.

The father-in-law of my elder brother was suffering from cancer. He was operated upon at Vellore and after this, his condition seemed to improve. Later it deteriorated. When he knew what was going to come, he committed suicide by jumping before a train, leaving a suicide note.

As I had to move over different places on transfer, we had no chance to stay in the house which I had built, till after my retirement. The house has an extra self-contained room where I used to stay during my brief visits. One night, during one such visit, at about 10 P M, I was told that an old lady in my tenant’s family had just died. I went down to see her. She was in her nineties. She was sitting on her bed and just dropped down with a slight thud. The family decided to take the body to their native place for cremation. By the time a death certificate was obtained, all other arrangements were made and the body was taken, it was 2 A M. I could not sleep the whole night.

When I was working at Chaibasa, a small District Head Quarters town in Jharkhand, I had become almost a family-member of many of the householders including non-customers. I used to get invited to almost all festivals and birth-ceremonies. During my stay there, I received the news of the death of one of the customers of my Bank. I immediately rushed there and was with them till the cremation.

When a person is diagnosed with a terminal illness like cancer and knows that he/she has only a few more days, how would he be feeling? What would be the feeling of his family-members? The two sons of this relative of mine arrived soon after being told that the dreaded moment was approaching. How would they have felt? They realized the inevitability, tried to prepare their mother for the fast coming loss and tried to persuade their mother to ‘let him go’.

In a Hindi film that I had watched some years ago, the protagonist was suffering from cancer. Everybody, his family-members, relatives, friends and colleagues, would become somber when he would come near them but he would always be cheerful and joyous! Knowing that his days were numbered, he tried to make the most of those days and spread cheer everywhere. Is it possible in real life?

At the time of someone’s death, we become philosophical. During my student-days, I had read a poem which had a few lines like this: a snake had grabbed a frog and was trying to swallow it. The frog was struggling to escape from the snake’s jaws. Yet, when the frog saw a dragon fly flapping its wings above its head, it extended its tongue, caught the fly and gobbled it up!

How is one to be prepared to face death? Lalita Pawar, who used to perfectly play the role of oppressive mother-in-law Hindi films and who played the role of Manthara in Ramanand Sagar’s TV Serial Ramayan, was living all alone. Her neighbours noticed about her death full 3 days after she had died in her closed house.

I had read somewhere, “Talk happiness; the world is sad enough without your woes.”

We Are Six

We were six brothers, i being the third one. My second bother, who was just elder to me, passed away in 1991. He was in his forties at the time of his departure.

Now, fate has claimed another brother, just next in age to me. He was in his fifties.

So two of my bothers, one, just elder to me, and the other just younger than me, are gone.

I feel like the child in William Wordsworth’s poem ‘We Are Seven’ which is reproduced below:

A simple child, dear brother Jim,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage girl,
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That cluster'd round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad;
Her eyes were fair, and very fair,
--Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? seven in all," she said,
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they, I pray you tell?"
She answered, "Seven are we,
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea."
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother,
And in the church-yard cottage,
I dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet you are seven; I pray you tell
Sweet Maid, how this may be?"
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run about, my little maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side."
"My stockings there I often knit,
My 'kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit--
I sit and sing to them."
"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there."
"The first that died was little Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain,
And then she went away."
"So in the church-yard she was laid,
And all the summer dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I."
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you then," said I,
"If they two are in Heaven?"
The little Maiden did reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"

Literature Network » William Wordsworth » We Are Seven

Are we not six?

Death Shall Die

Recently, an old relative of mine, in her nineties, expired. She had a fall which caused brain hemorrhage. She was hospitalised for about 2 weeks and then breathed her last. She was cremated at Puri. The cremation area is called Swargadwar (gateway to heaven) and is adjacent to the sea. It is believed that the soul of the departed gets peace if the cremation takes place at Swargadwar.

I had accompanied the body and participated in the rites.

The cremation area is subdivided into several quadrangles and several bodies can be cremated in each quadrangle at the same time. When we reached the spot, several pyres were burning. Fresh bodies were being brought in and registered for cremation. The atmosphere makes one philosophical; it is serene and very humbling. 

When we were waiting for completion of the formalities, i looked around at the other pyres. Some were being lit, some were burning with full flames leaping towards the sky, consuming the bodies and some were almost extinguished. On a few spots only a pile of ashes remained. It reminded me of the saying 'From dust unto dust.'

One particular pyre attracted my attention. It had just been lit. A pair of feet was clearly visible from out of the pile of wood, the other parts of the body being fully covered. The feet had alta (lac-dye, a red-coloured liquid applied by women and girls on their feet as a beauty-aid) neatly applied on them. Alta is worn by married women whose husbands are alive, as well as by unmarried girls. Hindu custom does not permit widows to apply alta on their feet or vermilion on the parting of their hair. When a woman dies during the life-time of her husband, her body, before being taken out for cremation, is dressed up just like a bride, in a colourful new saree, new glass bangles, alta, vermilion and all other accessories used by women whose husbands are alive. Thus, it was evident that this lady was a ‘suhagin’, a ‘sadhaba’ (a woman whose husband is there). In olden days, women yearned to die as suhagin and not as widows. When a married women bows before an elder, the latter would bless her, “Sada suhagin raho” (Remain ever a Suhagin), "Let you wear vermilion in your gray hair." and “Let your bangles be like vajra (the strong and unbreakable weapon of Lord Indra).” The allusion is to the custom of breaking the glass bangles of a woman on the death of her husband. By custom, widows do not wear glass bangles. In earlier times, a woman who died during the life-time of her husband, was considered lucky. This was because the condition of widows was miserable and their social status was low. Even now widows are not permitted to participate in certain auspicious customs.

The alta on the feet of this body made me somber and i could not take my eyes off it. It was a poignant feeling.One of my cousin-sisters loved to apply alta on her feet daily. Last year her husband expired. He was in his sixties at the time of his death. My cousin-sister no longer applies alta. Whenever i meet her, my eyes instinctively travel to her feet at first and the sight makes me sad.:((((((

I came back to my group. The son of the deceased old lady was about to lit the pyre. This is called giving mukhagni. The son, or in his absence the next member, (preferably male), of the family closest in relation to the deceased, puts agni (fire) to the mukh (face) of the body. It is believed that only when the person dearest to the deceased sets fire to face, the spirit of the deceased finally leaves the body. Setting fire to somebody’s face is the most undesirable act and when this happens, the deceased person truly gives up all attachments and his/her spirit finally leaves the body. When somebody harms another, the victim may react by saying, "Have I put fire on your face, so you are doing this to me?"

It is said that in life two things cannot be avoided; death and taxes.

Deaths occur so that life can continue. In a garden, old flowers must wilt and fall so that new flowers can bloom and take their place.

Raymond Tallis, the famous British savant-scientist in Hippocratic Oaths: Medicines and Its Discontents says, "However death is postponed and palliated - by means of medicines, public health, technology and social reforms - birth remains a one-way ticket to the grave."

Shakespeare says in Hamlet:

Though know'st 'tis common;

All lives must die;

Passing through nature to eternity.

Indian tradition looks upon Death as the greatest teacher of the secrets of life. In Kathopanishad, when Nachiketa finally meets Yama, the God of Death, the latter tries to bribe Nachiketa who seeks the supreme secret by trying to fob him off but when Nachiketa stands firm, Yama discloses the dichotomy of paths leading to shreyas and preyas, to blessedness and sensory satisfaction. Yama says: Choose what is ultimately real and not what appears to be immediately valuable.
Here is a video-representation of their conversation:

In my college days, i had read the poem ‘Death Be Not Proud’ by John Donne, which is reproduced below:

Death be not proud, some caleed thee,

Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not soe,

For, those, whom thou think’st thou overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet can'st thou kill mee,

From rest and sleepe, which but thy picture bee.

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sickness dwell,

And poppie, or charmes, can make us sleepe as well.

And better than thy stroake: why swell’st thou then?

One short sleepe past, we wake eternally.

And death shall be no more; death, thou shall die.

==

(The spelling of the words is as prevailed at that time.)

Death has been called the great leveler. A king loses his power upon death; a poor man no longer remains in poverty after death. All return to dust after death.

TAIL PIECE

It was perhps Mark Twain who had said, "Rumours about my death are highly exagerrated."

In India, it is believed that if rumours about a person's death turns out to be false, it adds years to his/her life!

ADDENDUM

29.10.2011

A question arises : If if death is certain and we don't forget or ignore it, then what is the use of living? One may as well commit suicide! However, death is only one side of the coin. The other side is life is just as inevitable. So live it fully and in a worthwhile way.