A dream that none dared to dream…!!!

The stagnant smell of spirits and medicines in the hospital verandas always used to disturb me a lot. As someone opens the door of that spacious hospital room, the squeaking noise of the wheel-chairs and the operation beds as they rolled over the hospitals marble flooring made a slight peek into the room. Also some impatient footsteps of the doctors who were on their rounds followed by at least a dozen nurses and the beep of various machines which was responding to the signals given by the strings and wires glued to the patient’s body was heard in perfect clarity. Some of my very close friends and some doctors and nurses were also with us. Could not remember who else were there in that spacious hospital room. All of us were assembled in that room following the doctor’s call for the people really close to this patient.

Apart from the beep sound of the various machines and the arrhythmic breathing of the patient, grey and cold silence that prevailed in the room takes control of the atmosphere again. After few touches with the stethoscope on the hairy chest of the patient, the doctor said "Anytime".

I was that patient….

Was it an accident or any other disease that led my way to that bed..?? Don’t know. Vision was blurring and I could hardly recognize the visitors. Anyways, their voices could be recognized. One of them tried calling my name. But the oxygen mask and my overall impuissance was held up high to be a barrier for making any response to their calls or add some wit to their conversation.

Suddenly I felt myself failing to grab enough air through the mask following which I ran out of consciousness. But I'm ‘awake’...like Mr. Clayton in the Joby Harold’s movie. Feels good to know that I haven't lost my wit even then. I appreciate that. The visuals, the dialogues and the background score faded. "It’s time...it’s time to leave all my favorite people, smells, tastes, roads, bikes and Thrissur"; I told myself.  My chest is congested. I wanted to cough. But I couldn’t even dare to think of the pain. Perhaps that would be the last time I move my body myself. It could all get over by that.

I coughed...and saw thick red blood spilling into air, like big and small ruby crystals, as that cough was released with all my leftover strength which raised my body almost to a straight legged sitting position. My own blood spilling into the air – that was the last scene I saw… I was getting out of the body that I used which was called Varun by the world. As I came out, my body fell back to bed in a slow-motion. I’m dead.

I wished to be a free man while passing through those clichés. A free-man, without any strings attached to my relationship table. I wish I was…and I guess I was...

It was an unbearable freezing temperature in the new world like a new born baby.  The overnight rain has gifted a chilly morning. The weather waked me. The action packed dream last night placed my blanket somewhere far from me.

As I got up I felt as if it was my first morning in the other world...I felt a cold freshness. Loved it...my death…no one thinks of it in the race called life…its fun to… And the words that pierced first into my thought were that of Late Bharath Murali - the renowned Indian actor.

"An Iron Rod boasts that he is the ultimate being on the surface of earth. But, Fire corrects him by melting the Iron Rod the moment they meet. Then Water comes to defeat the Fire which then boasts of its victory over Fire until it is evaporated by the sun to the Clouds. The Air which then mashes and scatters the Clouds is tamed by the Man. Man - he loses himself when Sleep conquers him. But, Sleep can’t keep his victory for long. It is only until Death comes to grab him. Yes..!! Death is the real hero."

May 25, 2010

She was a beautiful young lady. She wasn't our relative. But, like few others, she too was an elder sister for me and Mol.

Her death..!! That was the big news that Amma had on our daily call. Amma herself wasn't yet revealed from the cold shiver of shock on hearing this.

Few warm drops rolled down my cheeks as I closed my eyes after hearing this. It could be my love for her that would have made those drops so warm. There was a hug that I owed to her and I can feel my spirit struggling to get out of me just to give her that tight hug with all my love.

Losing your loved ones is something beyond my ability to even believe. The immature child in me often places them living a peaceful and happy life somewhere far away. For me, she’s still there in Dubai…living cheerfully...chilling out…!! (in her own words). When the red status symbol against her name in my Google Talk chat-list doesn’t glow, I feel that her blackberry might be switched off and she’ll sign in soon….and ping me once she’s back online calling me “Chottuuu….”

There are some situations that life throws at you, where you behave just like how that 11-year-old kid did when he lost his Dad no matter how big you grow. Today, I feel so trapped in this hotel room in Jakarta. All I could do is to speak to all her relatives whose contacts I have on my phone.

My love to everyone in her family….my prayers too... 

They will stay strong!! Love you, Zafars!! 

The Last Breath

A few months back, I happened to find a video in youtub. It was featuring the death of a young footballer on field with a song in the background that had its lyrics so strong and awakening. I must say that it literally haunted me for days. The video started with small and soft words which was capable enough to trigger the thought of why this race in life, followed by a song which as I said had a strong lyric, which I'm sure is flown from an awakened mind.

Though it was featuring a scene so unbearable, the way it was thought was simply awesome.

This is how it was…

The Last Breath

From those around, I hear a cry,
An awful, soft and a hopeless sigh.
I hear their footsteps leaving slow...
And then I know my soul must fly.

A chilly wind begins to blow
Within my sole from head to toe
And then the last breath escapes my lips,
It’s time to leave.

So it’s true but it’s too late.
They said each soul has its given date
When it must leave its body's core
And meet with its eternal fate.

Oh! Mark that I do say
Who knows tomorrow could be your day
At last it’s come to Heaven or hell
Decide which now. Do not delay.

"Oh God! Oh God!"
I cannot see
My eyes are blind
And I still me?

Or has my soul...
Been led astray
And forced to pay
A priceless fee?

Alas to dust we all return
And shall rejoice when others burn
If only I knew that before
The line grew short and came my turn.

And now as beneath the soil they lay me with
My record flawed they cried not knowing
I cried worse for they go home
And face my god.

Oh! Mark that I do say
Who knows tomorrow could be your day
At last it’s come to Heaven or hell
Decide which now. Do not delay.

>---------------------<

LAL SALAM...!!!

May 20, 2004. I have a crystal clear image of that night. Thrissur was not fully asleep that night. Former Cheif Minister of Kerala, E.K Nayanar’s corpse, which was on its way to Kannur from Trivandrum, was scheduled to halt in Thrissur that night. Due to the delay that happened at all the halted places, the time was around midnight when it reached Thrissur Corporation Office. Such was the rush of people who turned up for a last glimpse of the leader all along the route that the 500-km-long journey took five and a half hours more than the scheduled time.

On the other side, on the North-West face of the Swaraj Round, at Vadakkumnathan Temple premise, Matha Amrithananthamayi’s devotees were conducting a religious program. That was an overnight program with Spiritual talks, Bhajans, and Blessings. The Traffic in Round resembled the eve of Thrissur Pooram. It was a total mess.

Was it because of the sorrow of a dear leader's demise, or was it because of the divinity of Matha Amrithananthamayi? I don’t know why it was so. The sky was pouring heavily. The devotees of Matha Amrithananthamayi could withstand the rain only for less than an hour. The chaired area was almost empty. Most of the people who did not get a token for receiving her hug-blessing left the place without a second thought. Some who had the token gave it back to the volunteers and scooted.

But the scene was different in front of the Thrissur Corporation Office. Men and women of all age kept coming from both ends of M.O Road either in groups or alone roaring “Lal salaam" for their leader. The situation was out of control for the Police Department. Perhaps there was nothing to control. That was the most disciplined political crowd I have ever seen. Perhaps that was the most emotional one too.

Those "Inquilab Zindabad" are still echoing in my ears. When I close my eyes I can see those strong fists rising into air punching the rain drops. Some aged people was leaning on the pillars, some fainted without being able to carry their heavy heart. They were running out of tolerance as if it was the body of their very close family member that was brought covered in white. The young blood supported those who fell down with one hand and the other hand still punching those heavy raindrops and throats roaring the slogans. Each and every voice was cracked as if coming from a torn throat; yet very loud. Their tears were not visible in the rain. But I saw them wiping their eyes. A quote of Charlie Chaplin whispered in my mind. “I love to walk in the rain because no one can see my tears”. I now think that it could be that big leader hands that came down for the last time to wipe the tears of his supporters as that heavy rain. This is what a leader should mean. Controversies may be there. Who cares? Even our poor gods are not free from that.

  

Nobody was invited to both the gatherings at each end of Thrissur that night. But the spirit was different. A ruler is considered equivalent to the gods for the Indians right from the beginning of History and a rain was quite enough to test and prove it again. One cannot say that it was the Party that won there. It was E K. Nayanar’s victory. A victory that even Death would turn back once again with a smile. What an irony!! And this was the only way how his subjects could express it for the last time. And that justifies why it came out to be an emotional one.

Even I have prayed for the soul of this atheist. 

– My tribute to those comrades...a deep red Salute...LAL SALAAM…!!!

Death – A Revelation so beautiful…

Teacher’s death… I think that was what made the face of Death look more beautiful for me. Even many movies, talks and articles have played some role in making Death as one of my most fascinating subjects. I don’t know why people are so afraid. Why say people..?? Even I was just the same. Even I had a very dull color for Death in my mind. These false thoughts, is like a river that started flowing form time unidentified through the generations born and dead. And it’s still flowing. It’s now more contaminated. It is gaining strength by each passing generation.

It is true that Death brings loses to those left over by the dead. It happens at any stage of life. For some it may happen when life has just begun blossoming. He may not visit someone who is waiting for him. Hence, some so called philosophers defines him as a “Clown without the sense of scene”.

But, I don’t exactly know how and when. It can be my nuttiness to think and speak so. The mass may not accept it. I know. But, Death is also an Angel sent from a place unknown, separating us from our physical form of existence. Why do we need to be afraid of it? Actually he is the real hero. He is the one who gives us a realization that there is still something on the face of Mother Earth that is unstoppable by the Homo sapiens.

It is just a divergence. May be, who knows..?? If it’s our birth into a better world. Or can we actually consider this as the world of only those who are alive? How mighty could be their strength when compared to those of the living ones?

Man has everything. He has conquered everything above and below the sun. He has cracked unanswered questions of murders happened 3000 years ago. He started to remodel the face of mother earth. But the masterpiece of the Last Who... remains a monopoly - Death.

There is no discovery that can stop him. A brilliant masterpiece indeed. I don’t know if anyone can agree with me. I also won’t demand that. Most of us imagine him as something caused due to evil doing on earth. Something that comes in the night’s darkness to steal life. I exactly don’t know when I started. But, I liked to give Him different attire. Just think like how I’m going to say. I’m sure you will also be fearless. No one has seen him, no one has touched him, you can’t predict his arrival but everyone knows him. Perhaps pretty well. Like a real hero. The final unexpected guest of our life. Can come in any form. I feel him as a hero. The final form a hero.

It is a great phenomenon. You can’t call it annihilation. It is just a separation. I have heard many atheists orating. There is nothing called soul, it’s just a superstitious idiocy and so on. But, let me ask. Is there any markable difference between one who is dead man and one who is alive? An energy is there, which when lost we call him dead. For instance, this world calls me Varun only until I have the ability to breathe. When that energy is taken out of my body, it’s just a mass of flesh, blood and bones. Then the name becomes Dead Body. They ask, is the body cremated? No one will ask is Varun cremated. We all have this awareness in an unknown corner of our subconscious state of mind. You can’t call it a thing or substance because it’s a form of energy. For those energy to prevail on earth it is given a body and a name...like all the other forms of energy is given a name, the energy within us...no, the real we, are called SOUL.

Souls Exists?

We all fear that which we cannot understand. The tales of spirits have flowing down from generation to generation, as haunting and unknown creatures lurking in the dark. Today we like to think we are more intelligent than that, and to believe in spirits is nonsense and crazy talk! Do spirits exist? Is there any proof? There is another question, is there any proof that spirits DO NOT exist?

If we want to discuss this on a scientific and rational basis then we should think about what Einstein said when he spoke of human beings and the process of life and Death.

Einstein observed that human beings are made up of energy, and this energy is constantly moving. That which we may think of as solid matter is, in reality not solid at all! Between every molecule is energy, moving, even if we cannot see it. Everything is moving at speeds accelerated beyond what the eyes can see, energy is constant.

Now if we all comprehend that, then we must agree that since energy does not stop, than even after the Death of the body, that same energy is still in existence. It does not need any proof as it is self-evident. Through a process of Self-enquiry one comes to understand its nature. This process is one of negating all objective concepts and to continually ask oneself "who am I?" Am I the body? The senses? The thoughts? Etc, once all objectivity has ceased what remains is pure subjective Self — that is Soul.

What some may call a spirit others may call energy force, and so, it is all the words you use. No one stops to think. See how beautiful the concept is.

There is nothing to fear in it. Only the dead body can pass negative energy. When the soul was there in that body it could have been your favorite person. When it’s gone you fear the body. Which clearly states that what was within was the positive form. It is a proved science. But nobody wants to believe it.

After all this writing I can hear the ‘energy’ in me making a petite odd prayer... “Oh God!! ...” No, I'm not saying it. Let there be something on tenterhooks. In a Shyamaprasad style of storytelling, I'm leaving it to you...

Miss Rema

She was a well learned Brahmin lady who did about 61 substantive years on Mother Earth. One who was able to speak volumes about moral values, Indian heritage and tradition, and above all mathematics-the maths. She was seen only with the company of her better half, her Swami, which is how she used to call him, Mr. Venkateswaran. Who always used to be by her left side.

Teacher…that is how everyone used to call her. She worked as the Mathematics departments head in Vimala College, Thrissur. An ardent devotee of Vadakkumnathan. A very cheerful mother for the all kids she knew, especially for those, whom she used to meet regularly in Vadakkumnathan temple during those times. Though she hasn’t taught us in schools or so, yet we too, Amma, mol and me, started calling her Teacher...Miss Rema.

Very soon we occupied a good part in her heart. She was the senior most of my mom’s that Vadakkumnathan gifted me. But before that sheer chance of acquaintance, we used to reckon Teacher as a wonder lady from Divya chechy (She is the first among my many sisters that Vadakkumnathan gifted me...), as a lady with tremendous will strength, as someone who is dearest to my Vadakkumnathan. Because, before that we knew that she was not just a survivor of breast cancer but, is shaking hands to the excruciation of pernicious leukemia which was just an infant then.

Days passed. Months passed stealing those days. Teacher’s house became one of my “before-home” places after my class time like Sureshettan’s show room, Ray’s and Mohan uncle’s houses and all. I became one of her best friends. Some people used to make fun of me saying I only had many superannuated friends. But those moments, being in their gang, to hear stories of their time and about hot business deals going on in Thrissur, unwanted current affairs discussions while sitting under the Asoka tree’s concrete platform in Vadakkumnathan will be the next thing that I would thirst for when away from my Thrissur, after Amma and Vadakkumnathan.

Everything went on good until that day when Teacher fainted while bathing. The much awaited blood test report didn’t have anything that was good to reveal. It could only say that she was eyed by the Unknown. Though she was a little shaken, she was still confident. They then started to seek all extremes of treatment available. She was hospitalized in Vellore. Some nights when pain tears her apart she used to call Amma. When I hear Amma consoling her, I remember Teacher saying “When your body aches, that can be cured with your will strength and mere medicines. But when some twists happen in life that mashes your soul and mental, only the Omnipotent can lend his supportive hand of blessing for you. Your Amma is such a person who stands steady and stern with stout even after she was mashed mentally several times by the twists in life. She has a protective layer of blessings of her ancestors and all the Gods. Whenever I feel my disease is teasing me, Sobha comes first in my mind. Her voice solaces me, her words energizes me”.

Now, more than being a credential, this is a real blessing for my Amma – The Great. Not for hearing something good from someone like her. Because that is very easily possible, for she never speaks anything disconfirming about anyone. She has always had something good in everyone. But being a mental heal for her is something divine. That day I really wished if she said something like that about me too. Because, with those words comes immense blessing from the bottom of her heart. I have never felt that I was someone who deserves to hear something like that.

It took more than a year and a half for disease to defeat her body. But the will strength was still the same. When there was nothing else more to be done from the side of medicines, she was discharged from the Vellore hospital and brought back home. She was back in her routine. She was also regular in Vadakkumnathan. All these days, though she was coming, everyone’s mind murmured that we won’t be able to see her for long. Her hair shortened, her whole body was swollen. Almost a month and a half rolled away, when the disease returned with all its strength as if to play its final round.

I remember that night; it was about 10:30pm when our land phone rang. I attended the call. It was Swamy at the other end with a very short conversation. It was like this “Today Doctor told me that Rema’s condition is really bad and that she will not complete this night. But she heard our conversation. So I just called to tell this to you”. I told this to Amma in the same tone. And Amma asked me to be there at once, because teacher want you there. When I reached there she was lying in her room as if all set for the final journey. We spoke overnight. About death then recovering from it and so on. She was gradually picking up. I could feel it. But she can’t take it long. I knew that.

In the days that remained, Teacher was under the treatment of The Pain and Palliative Care Unit in Thrissur. It is a worldwide organization for cancer patients. It has no mission to cure the disease. It prepares the patients who are suffering in their final stage to travel well. That’s all. And it has Doctors who work voluntarily in it. This was a real blessing for Teacher too. She suffered no pain towards her end of consciousness. Two-three days passed. I used to be there whenever time allows. From a friend, I became a son for her. One day, time was around 10:00pm, I helped her to lie down in her bed. She was talking greedily. When I asked her to take rest, she told something…”today some of my students came to see me. I told about you to everyone. I said that I have a Hero here called Varun…he’s my 3^rd son… you will have a very bright future”. I stood as if hit by a lightning… I could do nothing but explode into tears. I could speak nothing in return. I gave her a deep kiss on her forehead with all my love. That was the last day she spoke in her life. She was in comatose for 3 days after that.

The Final day:

Jul 25th, 2007: From the information that I gained from Dr. Ramkumar, it was a shock for me to hear that she won’t cover this night…or tomorrow’s noon. It was around 8:00pm then. I immediately rang Radha Aunty who was a nurse in the Pain and Palliative Care Unit in Thrissur. For the past one week, after Teacher consulted with the Pain and Palliative Care, Radha Aunty used to visit her daily twice or thrice. She too told me that it’s almost time… Around 9:30 my mobile was ringing. It was Radha Aunty. With a deep breath that had all my prayers I picked up the call. The conversation was straight. “its almost time. Come fast.” I had no second thought. Sprang with my bike. Picked up Radha aunty on the way to teacher’s house.

That was for the first time I was entering on a situation or a stage of life where I could share a scene with Death. I was not entering that room for the first time. But that day I felt it strange within it. I could feel an energy that was not human. It was calm. It was cold. I could see Teacher breathing her last breath. I could hear Teacher’s daughter crying and her two son’s easing her controlling themselves.

If I was seeing this situation in a film, I feel, it could have given me a stammering mind at least for a few minutes. But here I felt as if in heaven when I was listening Radha aunt’s instruction to turn teacher’s body straight. The atmosphere had something divine in its fragrance. May be Vadakkumnathan himself might have come down to welcome his dear child to a place unknown.

While writing this, I dint count the number of drops that took birth in my eyes, lived through my cheeks and died in my T-shirt. When I have retrospection, I feel I am honored to be myself a quantum contributor for at least that decrepit smile which appeared on her face to welcome me to her room on the last day she could remember on this planet. But, I still can hear a child in me crying out loud when he lost yet another big soul in life. Those could be his tears.

----- I love you…my dear Miss Rema. I don’t miss you… for I know you will be there with me to celebrate when I win and solace me when I fail…