Of death~

Disclaimer:
These are my personal views. I understand it is a sensitive subject. Discretion is advised. Also, I highly recommend any reader to bring into good use any available counseling service if this blog upsets them or encourages their suicidal tendencies (Perhaps it is natural to think over it at least once in a life time). Having said this of death-

It is the ultimate truth in a world where 'everyone lies' (Dr. House). ... so peaceful, easy...

I will start with the story and if you chose to stay for a little long, we will move on to direct it. Of course there will be a room for our dearest critics.

Of Birth ~
I grew up in a hospital.
My doctor parents wanted to spend more time with us, kids. So the home shifted to work place.
Doctors live a very different life. For most of us it'd be hard to even imagine how they manage to pull through it. At least this is the case back home in small clinics of India.
I have known my doctor parents wipe away so cleanly the rim of sleep. (Perhaps that is why I treasure my human experience of sleep even more!)
Then I have woken up to find them either operating a patient or poring down some book/paper of some surgery some thing. And this happened often enough.

Oh! I am distracted!

Of Romance ~
The most romantic of human fate!

The one we know hardly anything about. It is inevitable but a sad story! For no one survives it enough to talk about it, write books/blogs or make movies out of it.
I wish it were not such a taboo. ( There was an article in Reader's Digest on how (not) to tell your kids about death for the first time when someone close dies.)

Picture this. You are still. So still that your heart does not beat! It is black (must be). Your eyes don't see. There are things happening around you. Bereaved people lamenting. But they are just people, right? Coz you can't feel! You, there is no you any more. Perhaps the only part of you still alive are the million microbes trying to eat your body. If we can some how remove the fear element, death is a fascinating state.
I see no reason to be afraid of it. Rest assured you will certainly have a company. Whenever you do die, there always will be some other humans dying with you somewhere - those interesting people you never met.

Of Music ~
the sound of death

As a kid I saw many people die. Almost a death per two days on average, not including the deaths that did not reach my ears or eyes. Before I developed ability to reason and extrapolate their fate to mine, I saw some common lines in the event of death. It was the strangest thing. People just stopped!
At times it would be like this: I would hear a commotion.
Curiosity driven, I would run through the wards. There would be so many men and women. Men greasy. Women at times only three-fourth dressed. (There was always some one who forgot her 'ghoonghat' or pallu or dupatta or sth. On other hand most men always had 'gamcha' on them).
There would be a tractor outside the gates of clinic.
A jute-bed. A woman with gloated stomach on it. In pain! Extreme pain! Thin as she would be, her face would still look like a moon. Yellow moon, all yellow! One of the doctor parents would cut snap some one's cry with - Why did you wait for so long? Couldn't you bring her before?
Yellow woman, with gloated stomach, her breath - small and quick. Eyes - either they would roll back exposing whites of the eyes or they would be partially shut in classic Buddha pose.
A hospital attendant ( my favorite didi) always came in with some injection. A doctor parent would be at knees, at times forcing big chunks of air through the yellow women's mouth and at times some attendant would manage to bring in a mask, so the doctor parent did sth else very quickly.
(I wouldn't know back then those emergency procedures.) It was very painful for the yellow woman or some old man who would lie down on that jute bed instead of her. At times instead of being in pain the person on the jute bed would have no idea of what is happening to him. Few seconds later. Patient would slip into silence.
(Pessimist, gore as I may be now) Take my word on this -
From the cruel expression of immense pain, the face of the jute bed occupier suddenly would shift to an expression of peace. Absolute peace!
One of the doctor parents would still continue trying hard.
I never got a chance to look at that ultimate expression of peace for long. Sound of death always distracted me. I can't describe that sound, but it is always the same. Whatever class you belong, rich or poor. It is the same. It aint exactly a cry of bereavement like they show in movies. Those men and women who had still expressions when the patient was in pain, give out that sound when expressions switch faces.
Whatever dialect, caste, economic standing it is exactly the same sound always. Let us just call it 'sound of death'. For first few seconds the exact same sound would go on and then the class differentiation would modulate it.


Of Looks ~
which like love and life never last long enough

Then there is this 'look of death'. A big man in his late 30s. Doctor parent tells him that his father, whom he carried on his back from bus stop to hospital has some cancer. He will die.
1
2
3
4
5,
the big man bursts crying, absolutely helpless. And his father?
I must have been six yrs old then, so I had to look up to the ceiling to see the father -patient. He was still. So different from his man-son.