Friday 15 March 2019

THE DAY THE WIDOW WAS BORN

So eventually the day came. Every one knew about it but none spoke it out loud. Although futile, all prayed against it. Baba finally left his ailing body behind to take his place in the heavens. After one month of struggle his body finally gave up. 
The previous day we  brought him home, defeated and exhausted - both emotionally and financially. Clutching the release order as I helped the paramedics put him into the ambulance,I felt as if he opened his eyes and stared at me with disbelief, that his son,  his Binki would admit defeat so soon, or maybe it was just my imagination already flared up by the raging emotions. The journey back home was no less an emotional ordeal, the hopeful faces of Pisi and Ma flashed which would turn to gloom soon. The oxygen cylinder gave a little aid to Baba whose breathing now was labored. After 5 long hours we finally reached our home and took Baba to the bedroom one last time. The night was sleepless and the room eerily quite except for the labored breathing and rasping sounds of Baba. Pisi, Ma sat near Baba all along. 
The next day dawned and Ma asked me prepare to wipe bathe Baba as he would always take a bath every morning. Ma and I cleaned him and put on fresh shirt and lungi for him as he lay motionless, with only his labored breathing telling us that he is still alive. I took the bucket to empty its contains as my mother stayed back in the room still talking lovingly to Baba. I have hardly reached the bathroom when Ma shouted "BINKI". I rushed back to the room almost knowing what waits me there. The room was totally silent now, not even the labored breathing which I so desperately wanted to hear now. Ma looked at me and then at Baba. I rushed to the side of my father, my Baba and searched for the pulse, I found none. I simply went out and called my uncle and gave him the news in a voice so straight that even surprised myself. Surprisingly I didn't find myself crying. Maybe the month long stay at hospital had subconsciously prepared for the eventuality or perhaps it didn't and I was just in a shock too deep to feel anything. The happenings there after felt all rushed and blurred as if I was rushing through a dream - a mat was arranged, they took Baba out and laid his lifeless body on the mat which was resting on the veranda. Someone brought the earthen pots, I heard someone speaking on his phone asking for a cartload of firewood. All the voice were distinct yet felt distant. Ma again came around and sat beside Baba. Pisi sat on the floor, head buried,resting on her folded legs. Her cries resembling that of a little girl. Someone was murmuring something to me, what was he saying? Who was he? Dipankar da came and picked me up. I followed mechanically. Another lady came and took my mother's hand and broke her bangles and with one clean swipe wiped the vermilion of her head. The mat was tied up and loaded onto a makeshift stretcher. I was made to hold one of the side of the stretcher. The chant started and amidst the "Bolo Hori, Hori Bol" and the smoke and smell of incense and camphor, I took Baba out of the gates of our home the final time. The pyre was already prepared by the time we reached the crematorium. Baba was lowered on the bank of the Ghagua, the very river in the waters of which he fished, bathed and swam his entire life, for one last bath. and finally he was made to lie on the pyre and as his only son, I lighted it up, and as the fire hungrily rushed to devour the woods and the remains of Baba along with them, I touched the feet of Baba and sought his blessings for one last time. Someone grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me away from the fire. From the distance I saw the fire consuming the last remains of Baba. 
As the fire died down I was again taken to the river to take a dip in the river, and after that we walked back home. As I entered the house my eyes felt on Ma. I barely recognized her. She was draped in a white saree. Never have i seen her so colorless. The color which was missing from her clothes now seemed to have left from her body as well. She looked pale. She looked 10 years older. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever saw Ma as she was standing. The time seemed to have frozen. I don't know for how long I stared at her, and for the first time that day I burst into tears. It was this day that a new avatar of Ma was born, fragile and steadfast at the same time, broken yet resolved, to carry on the duties, dreams and life that her beloved has left behind. It was on this day a widow was born.