Starting with the end ....

The discussions we have , the magazines we read , books we cherish are all about life and its paraphernalia. I choose a different topic to start my blog . The topic which is the most inevitable part of life , It is death, I have had at least 2 near death experiences in 44 years of my life . I often think about Death, having cremated both my maternal grand parents with my own hands in the Hindu ritualistic way. We choose so much so about life , from shirts , to alarm clocks, phones , cars , friends, we plan holidays , careers, retirement, do we plan death ? Do we choose death ? All Human life . big or small , successful or unsuccessful , will one day serve three purposes , If Buried, will become food for insects , If sent to tower of silence , they will become food for birds and If a Hindu like me , burnt to ashes and disposed off in water, even so that even a trace cant be recovered in any shape or form. 

If this is all we will become, why so much of "persona" of life , big golden framed photographs , epitaphs , monuments , samadhi sthals ? My Grandfather and Grandmother both lived in haridwar in their last days . Glory changes its cycle every 200 years . 150 years ago, grandfather of my grandmother, apparently a wealthy farmer , traveled using via Horse entourage to haridwar and had a huge 100 room haveli made to accommodate pilgrims from west punjab . After partition , my grandfather lost money, assets but not self respect. He decided to spend his days in solitude in haridwar. 

Some things catch your attention and affection more than others, usually things don't make a strong relationship with me (it is not another topic that even people don't , i will leave it for another day and time). Kurtas have always caught my attention, all photographic memories of my maternal grandfather, had him attired in a white cotton Kurta, fairly oversize with a crisp Churidaar. I never saw him in any other attire at all, the moment could be a wedding or a funeral, morning or evening, winter or summer, the attire didn't change. I never asked him Why? Life was too good then , too innocent and too much in joy.

One rainy morning of July 1994, he suffered a paralytic attack, a brain hemorrhage. When I met him a few months before his attack, he was his usual self , heavy Loud, confident , punjabi Voice, A toasted blend of Punjabi, Urdu and English, his one room flat was full of books, some that he wrote and some he loved. He was a newspaper freak, he used to read all papers, English , Urdu and Hindi. he used to say , newspapers are University Degrees in Four aanas (25 Paisa). He had 2 Master Degrees, One in Political Science and other in English. Despite Loss of stature after partition, he didn't change much.

When I saw him next, he was on a Hospital Bed, Still , no movements except eyes , he blinked to acknowledge me . he spent Next 9 days waiting for his death. I used to sleep next to him with a piece of bandage connecting his hand and mine , just in case he moved in the night. I left for Delhi at 9 PM, he blinked again seeing me go, for the last time.

At 4 am, he breathed his last, I drove back to complete his last rites. Human Body treats itself with so much importance and relevance and One moment of death makes it a very a different object. As per Hindu Rituals, he was brought home, laid on the ground, while the "Arthi"was prepared. He was bathed and attired again in his favourite clothes , White Boski Kurta and Churidaar . There is a relevance of the colour white, all life you can colour your clothes, choose fashion, choose brands as much but eventually the one color you will rest with is White, the colour of the cotton Pods. The body is wrapped in white cotton and tied with ropes. The white colour is a symbolic gesture to tell that all colors will vanish in end.

In His last journey while I walked ahead of his funeral procession, I realized that your weight counts so much, strangers wanted to carry him. That tells me that I may not be cared and carried today, One day I sure will be , hopefully my weight will be light enough to not cause pain . The Life is such that no matter how big or small you may be but no one can carry themselves to the end point, the funeral bed.

Another concept i dont believe now in , is called the concept of "self made" , so many around us will boast that they are "self made" , can you be born alone ? can you walk to cremation ground alone?. You need at least four people to carry you , Society is needed. Self made is a fallacy to boost egos . 

The cremation ground was washed, wooden strands placed strategically , the body turned to ash in a few hours . The Ghee and the raw sugar did its work. There is a ritual to pierce the skull using a bamboo rod , so that you remember, in the end the head you hold so high with pride will crushed under teh wheels of time. His remains were collected in a steel vessel minus his miniature being Called Saligram. In Hinduism you are cremated so that nothing remains of you when you disappear. You are Gone when you are Gone. No Tombstone, no feed for Insects, no place or space.Just gone ..

One thing to remember is there is no business class or ultra deluxe and platinum status in cremation grounds, you flew first class or pulled rickshaws . You owned empires or nothing , you will be cremated the same way . There is no valet parking at cremation grounds , Death is a big equalizer . The only equaliser . 

In last 15 months, I have scrubbed my conscience, let it be naked and expressed , just truth , the truth that I couldn't possibly tell anyone . I have bared the last thread of me ....Sometimes who you truly are, is not, accepted in society. I am possibly a man in White Kurta in this heavily coloured world. White Kurta is a reflection of the ultimate attire , the attire of life and death , thats why it is my favourite piece of clothing.

I don't wish to be remembered after I am gone, my ashes will best Serve a tree or plant...I have no wish for my ashes to be submerged in a river , yes under a tree sapling , a mango tree . No pictures , No death or birth anniversaries . That's why i don't believe in birthdays, they are just dates. 

Hinduism at least taught me what is so true, we are mere small inconsequential events but we tend to glorify our lives so much . before we begin .....lets start with the end . Let the ego of "being" go ...

When the ego is gone, the whole individuality arises in its crystal purity.The ego represents the social conditioning and constraints a person has accumulated since birth, creating false needs that are in conflict with the real self. all tensions arise out of ego ... all anxiety, anguish, despair, frustration.

you were born naked, you still smiled at people you dint know, you dint care if u had no clothes on. people loved you and u loved them back, you never cared about what you had and what you dint.

every subsequent need, want, desire was what you created.....eventually we all aspire for more money, more apartments and more audis and more and more.......I'd never say that we should not.....we should surely be focused to earn n succeed but all I'm saying is that failures in finances, love or family shouldn't deter us.

Don't look for acceptance from people, just accept yourself, love whoever you can and smile.
All Roads lead to the crematorium.

जैसे जैसे वक़्त गुज़रता जाएगा ...वैसे वैसे ज़ख्म भी भरता जाएगा ....
मैं तो एक दिन एक कलश में सफ़र करूँगा ...मेरी बातें मैं नहीं .....कोई और करता जाएगा ....

किसी रंजिश को हवा दो कि मैं ज़िंदा हूँ अभी, मुझको अहसास दिला दो कि मैं ज़िंदा हूँ अभी।

मेरे रुकने से मेरी साँसें भी रुक जाएँगी, फ़ासले और बढ़ा दो कि मैं ज़िंदा हूँ अभी।

ज़हर पीने की तो आदत थी ज़मानेवालों, अब कोई और दवा दो कि मैं ज़िंदा हूँ अभी।

चलती राहों में यूँ ही आँख लगी है ‘फ़ाकिर’, भीड़ लोगों की हटा दो कि मैं ज़िंदा हूँ अभी।