A death and my discovery

This blogpost has been conceptualising in my mind for quite some time but now it’s finally ready to be typed. Exactly a month now since I lost the third of my grandparents - my maternal grandfather, leaving my maternal grandmother alone as my surviving grandparent. I was at the Calcutta airport, when I heard this news from my aunt. I had finished with my security formalities and was almost ready to board the bus that would take me to the aircraft to Hyderabad. I was quite excited to be leaving Calcutta to reach my hometown for I had scheduled myself to meet my brother and so many of my friends. My parents were slated to arrive later in December (they have already arrived) and I was looking forward to spending quality family time. When the news of my grandfather’s death arrived, first to my parents and then to me, it threw every plan asunder.


I called up my father and checked with him, if he was already aware of the news and he indeed was, for he was at the Salt Lake inter-state bus terminus in Calcutta, trying to get a bus ticket to my grandparents’ place. Luckily for my parents, they could instead secure the Shatabdi train tickets for early next morning, which is a rather comfortable journey to make, given the reassure of an AC bogey to cover 300 KMs. But why discuss about comfort, when the heart is crying aloud and mind is far from defined thinking. My mother was shattered to say the least. From what I heard from my aunt, she cried hoarse and lost the slight bit of control that she had on herself, when she saw her father lying on the floor in his ultimate sleep. Apparently, my grandmother was consulted and it was decided that her husband would be cremated in his ancestral village, on the ghats of the Ganges. My mother decided to go along with her siblings to the village, a decision she later somewhat regretted.

I can only completely value my mother’s presence of mind in having taken the decision to send my father back to Calcutta that very evening. In a couple of days, the annual meeting (this time, platinum jubilee) of the prestigious Indian National Science Academy (INSA, Delhi) was to begin and my father, apart from being a fellow of the academy, was a member of its local organising committee. She amazes me in the fact that she in worst circumstance often shows the ability to make sound judgements. She and I have together seen such a horrible time in late 2000, when my father was critically ill and she made certain decisions that do indeed require a woman to be strong to make.

My blogpost is actually not so much about my parents as it is about the larger issue of death and life. The death of my grandfather was the first death of a near-relative that I witnessed. My paternal grandmother had passed away, when my father was an infant and her husband did, when I was way too young to understand death and life so much. Why didn’t I then return back from the airport? My reasons are that my father advised me not too because he, as usual, told me that he had the situation in control, that my luggage was already in transit to the flight and that the ticket was purchased out of my father’s LTC quota and cancelling them was not a great idea, given the possible loss. However, I think the reason is more that I, again, did not actually feel the magnitude of the loss. My grandfather spent a maximum of an hour of his time with me in the twenty four years of my life, lived more than 2000 KMs from my home and never visited my home – it was often we, who visited his house, and lastly, he was way too old, always, for me to strike any conversation with. The conclusion being, his death did not exactly move me as much as it shook my mother, probably not even a fraction of it. I was saddened, of course.

However, the theoretical closeness of our relationship made me ponder a little on an area of life that I am still scared of venturing into - death. I assume there is no afterlife and re-birth. Science disproves afterlife and re-birth and as of now that suffices for me to believe that both are fictional. In this scenario, we just have one life to talk of. One life to do everything we ever wanted to - visit every possible place on the planet, meet people, find true love, a job, make people happy and be happy, change jobs, get a heartache and go on again in search of another true love. Phew! Oh, and by the way, amidst all this, finish a decent level of education too.

My grandfather died without having travelled outside of his country, having visited hardly any province other than the one he was living in, with a mediocre job up his sleeve but having made quite a few people happy. I think he died a happy man, which makes me feel content in a way. Maybe I am too greedy – I want much more out of life but that’s what makes me happy. I’d love to travel extensively, be around people, see mountains, witness snowfall, get a truly international education, a satisfying and well-paying job, raise adopted children and give them a life they’d otherwise not have got, and of course, try finding true love somewhere. Will I be able to do all this or will I die an unsatisfied man? Will I live to be a hundred years old or will I die early? Will I be able to make people happy and be happy myself or will I die unnoticed? I have taken an oath to discover myself, to live life the way I deem fit, those who like me will continue to like me and those who anyway didn’t, will find faults. But I know I’ll be cheerful and I can keep my family and friends happy only when I’m.

Ah, I think I’ve already begun the journey of my life!