The Hangover (The Raising II)

The song kept playing in his mind – “ Koi Hamdam Na Raha Koi Sahara Na Raha”.... – Over and over again. He slowly came to from his rather troubled sleep. His head was throbbing. Try as much as he could he could not remember anything about the previous evening. When he looked down he saw that he was still fully dressed. Before he could continue contemplating on his doings the previous evening,overpowering nausea took hold of him. He barely made it  to the toilet bowl. In spite of his best efforts some of the vomit splashed on his feet. And then one mystery was solved. He had had dinner the previous night. Bits and pieces of chicken adorned his highly polished shoes along with paneer and half chewed rajma he could also make out some haribhari kebab... Koi Hamdam na Raha...  the song refused to go away. It all came back to him in disjointed memories. A smile tugged at his lips when he remembered  the animated dancing during the party. He shook his head when trying to clear it. The images of the previous evening came unbidden.

Just like all other parties, the Raising day party had started off on a sedate note . All the guests arrived formally turned out for the evening revelries. As was usual the ladies were dressed to kill. The colours nearly blinded him.And the variety of costumes was fantastic.His mind boggled when he thought about a theme party. That would have been surely outrageous.But that was not what interested him right now. It was necessary that- having been a part of the ‘Paltan’ – he assist the present lot of youngsters in ensuring that all guests were looked after. He believed in what one of his seniors told him; "Youngster" - he had said- " a party is deemed to be going well when the guest is received at the entrance and a drink of his/her choice put in their hand . Thereafter it is upto the guests to look after themselves". He always followed this valuable tip and imparted it to others wherever he had gone on posting.It had stood him in good stead all these years....

           The urge to participate in the revelries was reluctantly stifled - A gesture to the waiter with a tray laden with drinks to the guest who expressed his desire for a small whisky - Of course,  as was his wont, he tried to force a large drink on the guest - he could never understand the concept of ‘social drinking - "you drank to get drunk"was his philosophy. Not hold a drink in your hand as crutch to make small talk. These parties were so predictable. Initially there was a trickle of guests. The hosts stood at the gate , all attention to fulfill the smallest desire of the guest. Then they came in hordes. Leaving the hosts and the waiters confused and hassled. By this time some of the hosts left it to the younger lot to receive the latecomers, so as to look after their own friends and acquaintances. Finally the only person and lady at the entrance were the chief host and lady anxiously awaiting the arrival of the chief guest.Once he arrived, it was obligatory for the chief guest to make the rounds It was funny seeing the youngsters distancing themselves from their drinks and stubbing out cigarettes when the chief guest approached them. There were others who found it convenient to tag along with him dutifully laughing at his jokes.

The arrival of the guests went on for the next half an hour. The earlier guests were already on their second drink.

On the insistence of a youngster he finally succumbed to Bacchus. Moving from one guest to another he made small conversation, joked with the ladies , shook a leg on the dance floor, gorged himself with the snacks and along the way found that his glass was never empty. He assumed that he was being conservative and was going slow on the booze. He attributed his wobbly legs to the continuous celebrations as a build up to this major event now in progress. In any case seeing the way the party was swinging he felt proud about the whole thing . He could never stop being amazed at the resilience and dedication of the unit. Only a few days back the unit was in a gruelling exercise . The Commanding officers losing weight thinking about how they would cope up with the influx of guests and today they were celebrating in a grand manner.

            It was somewhere between the fourth and fifth drinks that he lost all his inhibitions. Suddenly he was the most visible person on the dance floor. He had his share of luck when his request for a dance was graciously accepted by the ladies and they accompanied him there. But as his movements started resembling someone with an electric eel down his back – they started avoiding him. Rejections did not matter . He looked at the world in general with a benevolent eye and continued dancing solo. When the guests started drifting towards the tastefully laid out dinner, he felt betrayed and all alone in this world.

         Finally it was time for the unit people to get together and let down their hair. The guests having partied and dined left while the night was still young. That was the catchword- the night was still young. As per his count he was still on his second drink. (He was mindful of his wife’s admonitions – do not drink too much). Everyone was on the floor dancing away to glory. He was on the sidelines for the time being.  Refreshing  his drink. His second for the night. This went on from sometime. On a chair close by there was this person who had finally given up on the festivities. He was stretched out and sleeping with his mouth open. It was time to take charge of the party. Notwithstanding the tired lot of people and the slow songs being played it was time to breathe some life into the party. Maybe that was when he he started singing. That memory evaded him. Thereafter it was a total blur.

The next thing he remembered was standing over the toilet bowl contemplating the just ejected contents of his stomach generously splattered all over his shoes –Koi Hamdam Na Raha- the song refused to go away. With a sigh he cleaned up as best as he could. The party was not yet over.....

Ruminations

My dear Achyut,

                   We wish you a very happy Vishu. The objective of doing this yesterday , on the day of the festival , was somewhat defeated , by your persistence in not responding to calls from me , Srinivas and Dr Narsing .  We are happy that you celebrated the festival well in spite of not being the recipient of the said good wishes . Sometimes I wonder why we want to be in communication with each other. On our part was it the desire to share the fact that we were having a good time and missed you?  Or was it simply the fact to tell you to suck it because you were missing something good ? Further analysis proved that it was indeed to  to torment you on your misplaced priorities.Jokes apart there was also the need to communicate with a good friend who has been the cornerstone of permanency in Hyderabad , with an ear to the ground, while the rest of us floated around the country/abroad looking for means of sustenance. 

                    Also the fact that time that is past can never be recreated but can only be imitated at a later point  in an effort to remember what you missed ,will only make it more poignant about the missed opportunities . Nevertheless suffice it to say that Narsing was a good host and I Tyaga and Srinivas enjoyed his hospitality to the fullest . Even after all these years, it is still a mystery to me why childhood and school are remembered with nostalgia. While at school I always wanted to grow up and 'do my own thing'. The oppression and the fears of childhood needed to be left behind. Not to mention the fuggy atmosphere of a classroom with its typical smell of 40 children sweating and farting away. 

                  As the evening progressed memories buried deep in the subconscious about the childhood past resurfaced -no doubt -helped by ingestion of that wonderful liquid that tends to loosen all inhibitions . Srinivas regaled us with anecdotes some of which were nice , others hilarious and some which bordered on being scandalous. A moment of solemnity intruded on an otherwise happy evening when we remembered those who kicked the bucket .

                  Memory is not what it used to be and we missed your valuable contributions to 'tales of the past ' to which we clung on so tenaciously in the hope to create the magic of the uncomplicated youth . Narsing had some stories of his own , while Tyaga and me were more in the role of good listeners . While the stories of the past did not run out , time did and we reluctantly took  ourselves from bar to  the dining table. Dinner was a no holds barred effort from Mrs Narsing . Unfortunately advancing age and poor appetite coupled with  the fear of waking up in the middle of the night with a heartburn prevented us from doing justice to this wonderful repast . Thus disappointing Mrs Narsing who was actively  looking into the logistical aspects of storage of the leftovers vis a vis feeding it to the local dog community who did a better job of security than the overpriced firm were actually in charge of guarding the gated community . The food fest being concluded we headed to the living room .

                  Achyut have you ever given a thought as to how people watching  a three hour movie  rush to the exit even as the movie is ending, as if they can't wait to get away ? The similarities were striking in our case also - for more than three hours we kept talking and numbing ourselves with booze (unending flow I must say ) and suddenly we were looking at the clock and remembering our deserted spouses and children/grandchildren . Reasons notwithstanding awkward goodbyes were said, with each one of us envisioning our beds and probably thinking thoughts that I cannot make you privy to on paper. Suffice it to say that we finally hit the road around  midnight . Srinivas was last spotted  at the suchitra crossroads bargaining with an auto rickshaw. Me and Tyaga moved further . Our biggest concern was how to get Tyaga home without the police discovering liquor on his  breath. The homecoming was silent and uneventful . I slept contentedly knowing that it was an evening well spent - the only regret being that you were not able to share this joy with us...

The Raising I

It was time again for the raising day. As the commanding officer it was his first and he did not want any problems or mix ups.He would never hear the end of it all his life if such was the case.

From the vantage point in his office he could see the youngsters scurrying around trying to make sense of the orders passed by him with regard to the raising day. As the days passed by he was getting more and more impatient with his officers.And as for himself - that sign behind his chair in the office was very clear - " The Buck Stops Here " it proclaimed. That and his pride prevented him from seeking any advice from anyone.At times he felt sorry for his officers – but then he steeled himself against such mundane emotions –“ how will they learn if I keep spoon feeding them ?” he thought. 

As was inevitable his mind went back to his days as a youngster – and in particular – that particular raising day when his newly  wedded  wife had just joined him. In line with the ongoing traditions he was paraded in the Sadar Bazaar yoked to a bullock cart in which his wife was sitting regally dressed in the finery whipped up by the ladies of the unit en route to Sadar. Inwardly he was cringing at the spectacle he was presenting – but outwardly he stuck gamely to the task at hand. The vehicle with the speakers leading the procession was belching noxious fumes into his face and to add insult to the injury the loudspeakers were blaring loud music. . The road side urchins were urging him on while the unit officers were trying to prolong the procession by tugging the cart backwards.

It was then that he decided that he would never marry again. After all these years he still stuck by this decision. His wife was the same as that day. Only now they had two strong and handsome boys to show for their years of labour... As the time passed by he remembered those days with fondness. Lot of work with no responsibility. He wondered how his  Commanding officer  at that time handled the pressure of those crazy veterans. They were always ready to offer advice. Most of it unsolicited. But very valuable all the same . He supposed that the CO had to exercise a lot of patience to listen to everyone and yet not retort in a heated manner. The general consensus was that the CO had a tough job...

Having given  the necessary orders he headed back home . His wife had left with he other ladies to “shop” for the raising day. His thoughts drifted to the past again....

The guests had started arriving two days in advance. The mess looked festive and cheerful. The waiters were running all round – hard pressed – to fulfill the demands of the guests. Some guests retired for the afternoon siesta and some others sat in the lawn luxuriating in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The unit officers were collared by the veterans and were minutely being questioned about their antecedents and precedents. Marital status of the junior officers was the question most asked that day. Additional interrogation of those unmarried was being done including their caste creed , colour and performance in the various army courses. Then the officer was tentatively asked about his plans for marriage. Those that were engaged or had plans to marry their sweethearts were soon ignored and the eligible bachelors were concentrated upon. 

As the evening drew to a close the veterans conversed with each other and slowly headed to the bar. “ These guys are indefatigable” he thought to himself and shuddered at the thought of completing the next two days. The forty eight hours seemed more difficult than an endurance march. Fortunately the CO had packed the next two days with a lot of events to keep the people busy. As the evening progressed he longed for solitude and his comfortable bed. His wife – under the present circumstances- held no appeal to him. Soon it was time to see off the last guest to his room. The CO was finally looking relaxed. The proceedings were finally underway. Of course it did not mean that he was so relieved  that he left without cautioning the officers against any SNAFUs and the dire consequences thereof...

As his wife came back from the market she was full of news of the other ladies and their children. How Mrs'--- son stood first in the class and how Col***’s son eloped – only to return home within a few days when he ran out of money.... She was faithfully relayed all the complaints and suggestions offered by the other ladies. He let her ramble on for some time before he gently prodded her into telling him as to what she spent on her outfit for the raising day . The figure she quoted took his breath away. As always he decided to take the path of least resistance by keeping mum and uncomplaining for what he thought was a frivolous expenditure. He kept his peace at home - but it looked like his officers were in for a torrid time; The urge to get away from the mundane gossip being spouted by his wife was strong upon him. He wondered how the previous Commanding officers coped with this aspect of the raising day celebrations. His mind went back to that particular raising day as he tuned out the incessant chatter of his wife....

The next day – he remembered – brought in more guests. The officers as well as the other ranks started coming in . Lots of unfamiliar faces – though none were unfriendly. He was the chief coordinator and it took all his skills and organisational capability to bring everyone to the right place at the right time . The pattern was the same all the days. Two people got together and started discussing a topic and then had to be shepherded for the next programme. Along the way he had to repeat his biography to a number of people  by rote  to the questions posed – where are you from- what does your dad do – Is your wife working – good to stay together  in the initial stages of marriage – money is not everything – how have you done on YO’s -  and the list went on endlessly. The faces started swimming in front of his eyes. Anyone with a suit and tie on were ‘sir’ some Junior commissioned officers gently corrected him – not overtly –but by repeating their name again for his benefit....

 His thoughts were suddenly wrenched into the present ; “ are my youngsters undergoing the same experience”? he wondered...

Funeral III - Change

 Day 6 - Immersion

The religious ceremonies were fast drawing to a close. The time to collect the ashes and immerse them in the river had come. The entire family opted to go for this religiously sanctioned outing. It gave everyone a reason to get out of the gloomy atmosphere of the premises where they had been incarcerated for the past five days. A trip to the nearest river took up the entire day. It also gave us all an opportunity to finally bid farewell to the  remains of the person in question. Of course as at every other place, there were touts who were ever ready to fleece us in this emotional state. The task at hand was completed. The feeling of relief was palpable. It also gave us an excuse to consume palatable food at a roadside Dhaba. We rationalized that Dhabas do not cater to our sentiments. The dishes quickly vanished from the table - It was a revelation to see how much each of us could consume. It was as if we had been starved for the past few days...Food does makea difference to the mood.We returned back to the house in an uplifted frame of mind. The prospect of spending the remaining four days with the family did not seem daunting at all.....

Day 7 - The 7 Minutes 

The affairs at home started limping back to normalcy. It is a recorded fact that the grief of passing of a loved one lasted precisely for 7 Minutes. Thereafter, how sad you felt depended on how miserable you wanted to be. I disagree with this cold assessment. A lifelong association and the memories involved – and the fact that these past moments never come back are enough to leave you grieving the past. The time had come to take comfort in each other’s presence and also speculate as to how the future would pan out with this life changing event ....The tranquillity associated with knowing that the stressful moments of someone’s passing were soon going to be a thing of the past also kept everyone in a equable frame of mind.

              Day 8 - Realization

Preparations were under way for the tenth day. The house was abuzz with muted excitement. Relatives and friends who were unable to attend the funeral now started coming in droves. Many wanted to stay over to help in preparation for the final day. Perhaps to assuage their guilt that they could not come for the funeral. There were others who came out of sheer curiosity to see whether we siblings had murdered each other over the past few days of forced incarceration. Then there were those few who genuinely came to condole the death of a loved one. They were the people whose life was affected in a positive manner by the deceased person. We also learnt about these new facets of our parent . Some of the stories were pretty moving and our hearts swelled with pride with the knowledge that our parent would always find a place in the heart of many people across the country. Religious ceremonies proceeded as per the norms.... 

Day 9 - Rationalisation 

Perhaps there was a reason for these long drawn rituals. One that I could discern immediately was, that finally, after all these years, the frequent visits to the cemetery for the rituals inured us to death. In an indirect fashion we stopped worrying about death. We learnt to rationalise that death is indeed a part of life. At some point in time we all have to ‘Kick the bucket’.

More important was the fact we learnt how to cope with each other. For a protracted period we had  not spent  time with each other – having been busy ‘settling down in life’. This enforced interaction since we were children helped us rediscover each other – again. Made us realise the importance of spending time together. See each other in a new light. All the bitterness and anger were a thing of the past.  We learnt to appreciate each other. No more pointless ego hassles. Our ancestors when they devised these rituals had had this in mind. I was convinced of this now. In a way the rituals helped us cope with what we lost and learned how to move ahead in life. We were all co-operating to complete the rituals like a well oiled machine. The past was forgotten along with the associated bitterness.

Costs were high. When it came to financial aspects there was no sympathy on part of the vendors. In fact the moment they knew that the ceremony pertained to the last rituals the prices (I suspect) were hiked up. The vendors knew that since it was an emotional matter we would pay without any haggling.

Day 10 - End Game

The day started early. Shivering in the morning we had a cold water bath. The hypnotic chanting of the Brahmins from the Vedas kept us awake – but in a somnolent state. Sitting on the floor for a protracted time was a real test of one’s inner strength. At some point of time we just gave in to the torture and conducted the rituals in a mechanical manner. Even while the conduct of the rituals was on, friends, well wishers and relatives started arriving. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them talking to each other. I was surprised that the talk was more about current day government, gossip about doings of the people who were not present and about anything and everything except about the person who had passed away. In fact I also heard someone criticising the caterer saying that the caterer we had hired used too much oil and his food was not all that tasty. As the day progressed the day’s proceedings slowly meandered to a closure. There was restlessness among the guests . I suppose that they were feeling the hunger pangs. “Good let them wait” I thought maliciously. In more ways than one, this gathering – while not the happiest one – was beneficial in that we picked up threads with people we had not met in a long time. It was then that it struck me that it was a good way to reconnect with others. The lunch was a solemn affair. Probably the impending eulogy of the dead was weighing heavily on everyone’s mind. Not many of us were skilled speakers and the need to dredge our memories to say good things about a person who was no more.... All in all the eulogy went off well. We as the offspring learnt a lot of things about the deceased parent. And it was all good.

My mind went back in time. I reminisced about the good and the bad times. Memories of my parents and by association,my siblings, which had faded with time - and been obliterated by the stresses of daily life and work - suddenly pushed themselves to the fore.  I realised that life had dealt a good hand to all of us. This realisation made me feel closer to them now than ever before. I like to think that this was the case with my brothers and sisters also.

The visitors gradually dispersed, after a hearty meal. Some thanked us and thereafter left – having nothing else to say – while others had some good things to say – still some others left offering us advice as to how it would be advantageous to us to stick together in these times of difficulty. This was irritating. But there was little we could do other than nod our heads sagely. At the end of the day – something we did not look forward to – we were drained of our energy.

Conclusion

The time to get back to our day to day life was at hand. These past few days were a time for rediscovering ourselves and our near and dear ones. We were finally secure in the knowledge that we were not alone and there was always someone there looking out for us and for each other. But then while time is a great healer it also dims our memories.....

Funeral II

           Day 1 - The Incarceration 

        The funeral left everyone exhausted and emotionally drained. We returned home to a sombre atmosphere. All rites as required were being followed religiously. Garuda Puran was being followed in letter and spirit. Even the children who were normally boisterous were quite and subdued. The latest addition to the family (one year old) was crying in subdued tones. For once the television was switched off. Lamp in remembrance of the dead one was regularly being replenished with oil. Bland food with no cooking oil and other necessary condiments was consumed without a complaint. Was this how it was going to be the next ten days?

        Day 2 - Ennui 

      Woke up fresh without a hangover. Relaxed in bed. Then suddenly remembered as to why I was here. Why we were all here. And that feeling of sadness settled in the stomach. Suddenly the realisation that the water supply was only for an hour hit me. Needed to get ready. Should use the bathroom before any one else ruined its pristine condition. Breakfast was again bland . Children were showing signs of restlessness. Parents were trying to impose the sadness of passing away on the children (“You should not play or make noise” – was the frequent refrain of the parents with solemn faces). Music was on full blast - Ustad Bismillah Khan Shehnai – why is Shehnai played only for weddings and funerals? – I thought. Free time read a novel. Is it appropriate to read a novel? Ceremonies were performed by the Pujaris. Stream of visitors condoling the death was still on. After the first “ I am so sorry about the Passing”, the silence stretched. “Will you have a cup of tea or coffee?” some people did not want to have coffee or tea . I could intuit that they were hesitant to consume a beverage in a house hold where there has been a death. For people who did not know how to respond, a cup of coffee or tea was thrust into the visitor’s hand. The hot beverage forced the visitors to prolong their visit. With little else to talk about, conversation usually drifted to the kids. ( “How tall he has grown – which class is he in”?- “what is he opting for”? Etc) After drinking the scalding tea at an impressive pace the visitors leave. The TV addicts among us are staring at the blank screen. Everyone is reluctant to take the initiative to switch on the TV. Today we had to remind each other to keep the lamp burning. By evening - with little else to do - everyone was tripping over each other. Fortunately we were still civil to each other. Resignation to eating tasteless food. We retired to bed early. Sleep eluded me. Maybe it is the withdrawal kicking in.

       Day3 - The Inheritance 

      The first thing I noticed was that the lamp had gone out. It did not seem important anymore for the lamp to continue burning. Anyway this was pointed out to all and sundry by everyone concerned. The lamp was relit and normalcy restored. The time to see who got what was at hand. The advocate arrived at the prescribed time. We all assembled in the drawing room. There was an air of expectancy. In all it was a disaster right from the start. Debts had piled up for the treatment. Property tax not paid for quite a few years. The hospital bills were yet to be cleared. The positive aspect was all assets were equally distributed. Therein started the bickering. “Who would clear the outstanding dues”? “Should the house be sold”?” And money distributed”? “Or should someone occupy it”?” Should it be given on rent”? Not all agreed on selling the house.

     The attention was thus diverted from the betrayal of the expectations from the dead to the stupidity of the living.

     The family was divided into two clear factions. Those for selling the house and those against. The discussion got very bitter. Past intransigencies of various stakeholders were dredged up. Soon everyone was pouring scorn on each other. By evening all were exhausted and had run out of abuses and curses. The period of silence started. I felt that it was a precursor to the more deadly battles coming up. In my view the silence was for us all to remember new insults to hurl at each other. The future looked bleak and gloomy.

       Day 4 - The Quarrel 

         There was a tussle as to who would keep the lamp burning. Remembrance of the dead was slowly losing steam.” It is not my job” was the frequent refrain. When the lamp was ultimately lit, the person who did it had a ‘Holier than Thou’ look on their face. Complaints about the tasteless food were growing more vociferous. The aftermath of the previous day’s manifested itself in quite a violent manner when a child was slapped resoundingly for disobeying his parent. Immediately there was an outcry of indignation. It opened the floodgates for everyone to comment on the methods of upbringing a child. While the parent was contrite about his impetuous action he could not let go of the slur on his character – “ I know best about my child; Who are you to tell me about my shortcomings?” – followed by criticism of how ill - behaved the other children were and how badly they were doing at school. Comparisons were made to a donkey and the child in question and the future of the other children. As the day passed the discussions got more and more heated. Finally zeroing in on the shortcomings of the parents themselves and their present station in life. Emotions ran high. One of the sisters-in law refused food. Of course it would definitely do her good not to eat for a day or two. The frayed tempers left everyone exhausted. The differences split the families  and no one was speaking to each other. There settled a pall of gloom over the house – more potent than when the person in question had passed away. People were not sad but seething with anger.

        Day 5 - Reconciliation ?

     The day dawned bright and beautiful. But not for this household. The previous day’s accusations and counter accusations  still rankled in everybody’s mind. Thankfully the children were unaware of these undercurrents of unhappiness. You cannot stop children from doing what they want for a single day – leave alone for ten long days. Day to day routine and the cold war threw up some really atrocious breakfast and lunch. The food was so bad that one could feel the universal rejection, even though no one spoke of it. Into this charged atmosphere walked this aged relative who was not liked .Her visit combined with insensitive remarks about our parent and the tasteless food finally made everyone realise that we had something in common. This precipitated in stilted conversation  between the 

various couples. Those who were deeply hurt or angry still kept quite. There was a certain lightness in the atmosphere. I felt relieved at this new development. We went to bed in a much better frame of mind.Who Knew how long this  this tenuous peace would last...  

The Funeral I

The van sped through the busy thoroughfares of the city. As it went past people on scooters and cars averted their eyes - almost as if they were scared of being infected by the contents of the vehicle. And who could blame them? In spite of reading and hearing about death people were still worried that if they looked at the vehicle carrying the mortal remains they would in some waybe affected by death sooner or later. For those who came upon the van suddenly - there was no option but to run their hand over their heads ( so that they do not have bad dreams) and commend the soul of the departed - to God. The mood of the occupants accompanying the dead body was somber. One o two of them were weeping silently with tears coursing down their cheeks. Someone else was looking into the distance as if he could not be bothered about the whole issue of death. The garrulous one was relating the tales of the goodness of the dead person and extolling the virtues of that person. Once in a while he would break down in mid sentence and start wailing - "oh why did it have to happen? - Fate is cruel to good people - it is unbearable" - and then he would become hysterical. Until someone acknowledged his rantings and offered him water. Then he would again continue on and on - till some overwrought person told him to shut up. A mini fight would break out and someone would point out to them that this was not the place to air their grievances.

For sometime an uneasy peace would reign the vehicle. Then the practical one would speak up. " Did anyone remember to bring the death certificate from the doctor?" he would ask. The man of action would start getting riled up. Who was responsible for getting the death certificate? Why am I the only one to look after everything. Sure there has been a death - does not mean that you all behave like corpses - and then he would scream at the top of his voice to the driver to pull up to the side. In the meanwhile he has already nominated the most reliable person (in his opinion) to get out of the vehicle and hurry home to get the certificate. The whole vehicle is in an uproar. Added to this is the honking of the horns of the rush hour traffic. There is a general bedlam. The 'dear departed' is forgotten for the moment. Then a small voice from the front of the van - " I have the death certificate". Further recriminations follow - "why did you not say so before? - "Are you deaf or something"?- "You have always been inattentive in life". - "You are such an idiot"- "You are useless" - the general consensus about the youngster and his uselessness and idiocy quietens down the others. It is almost as if reaching this agreement put everyone in a good mood. The van resumes its journey to the graveyard. Not all are quiet though. The practical one is still at it. "I hope you have sent someone in advance to book the crematorium to book the cremation  plot".

A fresh  argument breaks out. " Why not the electric crematorium"? someone said. And then he goes on to extol the virtues of an electric crematorium as to how it is  more hygienic - no wood used - saves trees - good on the environment - and so on. Someone else says that the last wish of the dead person was to be cremated on the pyre and not in an electric crematorium. Again a heated argument breaks out . Finally someone who is more assertive says that irrespective of the last wishes it is better to use the electric crematorium. The others are by now too drained to argue further. It is finally decided that  the electric crematorium be used....

The van reaches the 'Smashan Ghat'. Immediately the van is surrounded by the touts. Someone screaming at providing the wood. Others offering the plot for burning the body and yet someone else offering the services of the priest. Everyone is rebuffed . The body is carried to the stone block outside the electric crematorium. They struggle as the person who died had a rather robust life and was quite heavy. There is general cursing as the body dips to one side being too heavy for the frail person in charge of that end of the crude stretcher. Someone else rushes to assist on that side. They reach the stone platform and somehow manage to dump the body unceremoniously on the platform. General panting all round. The accompanying priest begins his chants and the rituals. The eldest son carries out the required activities mechanically. As he finally circles the body he is told by the priest to shout in the ear - as if to ensure that the person is really passed away and wont come back from the pyre. The other brothers trailing behind the eldest also do the same - finally touching the feet before the body is consigned to the flames.The other relatives and friends, now having been unburdened have split into small groups talking among themselves. Someone is discussing the Pay commission in low tones while some others are talking about how they had made a similar trip to the ghat earlier. One among them is hailing the attendant at the crematorium in a familiar manner - it is obvious that he has been here earlier. Someone else in a predictive voice is talking about how they will have to be back here soon as their friend's father was on his way out.....

By now there is a general restlessness in the crowd. Why is it taking so long says someone. The man with his ear to the ground comes back with the information that there is a power cut. And that the power is not likely to be restored anytime soon. As soon as this information becomes public, everyone is talking at once. One of them is already on his mobile phone passing instructions to his underling that he will be late from the funeral and that, the shop should be opened to business, as he would get delayed. Once again the powers that be are in a huddle , discussing their next course of action. It is finally decided that the body will be burnt on the pyre.

It looks like the dead person has had its own way - one last time.....

Meanwhile....

The rate of firewood had gone up dramatically - as had the price of the plot for burning and the cost of oil and ghee. Not to be left behind the priest has also raised his price as he was to have gone to a wedding and that if he had to stay he should be suitably compensated. Now began the most sordid part of the whole affair - bargaining over the dead body. Voices were raised and finally came down a few octaves as the people started cajoling the touts. an acceptable remuneration was finally arrived at for all concerned . Things start moving at a rapid pace thereafter. Within no time the body is on the pyre and the flowers and wreaths are out of the way. The body is covered with wood . The grieving children see the familiar face for one last time. The memory will linger for sometime - before the only thing remaining would be the photographs of happier times....