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Sribharat Kainkaryam writes:
*****************************************************************************************************
"....As Varun sent me this piece, it was a mixture of some joy and sadness. The fact that you manage to look at a cruel and never a pleasant feeling for people around them called death in such a humorous way, made me think that this is precisely what the world needs! Especially the post about screwdriver-cupboard-rat axis in such a depressing situation was quite amusing...
Funereal gatherings are always awkward.
There is the mortal coil lying there with no hope of the departed soul coming back to claim it and no one knows its whereabouts and wherewithal and wherefore and quo vadis?
And for once it is an occasion (next to childbirth) when the mystery of life smites you in the face whether you are a king or commoner, prince or pauper, Jack or Jill.
In the midst of this otherworldliness there are the incongruous calls of Nature intruding embarrassingly.
To misquote the Autocrat:
"Today's lunch subtends a larger visual angle than yesterday's bereavement"
Humor in a subtle way demystifies the situation and releases the awkward tension, particularly when an aged person indulges in it...for, age has its privileges and the onlookers think that the goof doesn't know that his time will soon be up.
*********************************************************************************************************
In 1983, we got a telegram at KGP that my wife's father (60) passed away in Jalgaon after a massive heart attack.
My wife, my toddler son, and me took the next Bombay Mail and somehow reached Jalgaon after a punishing 30 hour travel. By the time we reached there the cremation was already over and the hall was full of relatives from my wife's side many of who were strangers to me. So, I was looking for an opportunity to escape from the crowd and be left alone for my woolgathering on the streets of Jalgaon.
Word came that my wife's grandfather (75) was arriving by the next train and someone had to go and receive the old man (Retd Executive Engineer). Few were keen to take up this assignment since it was this old man's daughter who got widowed and it would be an embarrassing welcome. I didn't have much hesitation since I knew this gentleman well and that he was down to earth after watching and facing so many bereavements and funerals including his own wife's 4 decades ago.
So I volunteered and went to the Station. As the train arrived and the REE got down and saw me, his eyes turned moist and on our way to the Out Gate he broke down a bit but recovered and I knew that he wouldn't break down again in the crowd.
And I escorted him to the hall and then on he was in the midst of his kith and kin and everyone was consoling everyone else in a Frog Party way, sipping the chai that went round as a hunger-killer.
A couple of hours later the luncheon gong went off and word came from the kitchen that lunch was ready and banana leaves were spread out on the floor and glasses full of water were holding them down from the breeze of the fan.
In the hall there were about 20 males lying down on the floor in a hexagonal close-packing, all hungry, but none willing to get up and take the lead of obvious indelicacy...eating when the departed hungry soul was keenly watching the proceedings!!!
It then was left to the Old Man to break the hypocritical bubble by his wry wit:
"Let us go and eat...for we need energy to continue our mourning"
Then there was a relieved rush with everyone fighting for a seat in the musical floor-seat.
And after their full meal, however, none had the energy to mourn till after they slept off and snored to their heart's content.
And, mark my words, good food and tears don't commute...they all went to the matinee show while I took my toddler son out to the Jalgaon Station to watch the trains.
******************************************************************************************************
The other night my dear departed wife was lying peacefully in state in her glass-topped freezer box in our hall and we, her close kith and kin, spent the whole night reminiscing.
As the day broke, visitors arrived to have a last look and utter a last silent prayer before she was taken down into the lobby for her last rites.
The hall was soon filled by grieving relatives, friends and onlookers sipping the default tea in dispo-cups silently without a murmur.
I got dressed up and came out and found that my son's couple of colleagues who were our real companions in distress assisting us in shifting the freezer box home seven floors above in an ill-fitting 'service lift' last night were siting quietly outside on the steps of the stair case.
I joined them and found that my fly was down in the hurry of hasty dressing.
And I told them in a solemn tone:
"My son's new sedan has this beeper which goes off whenever he forgets to fasten his seat-belt."
The two youngsters listened to me grimly thinking that some awful driving mix-up tale was in the offing.
And I said equally grimly:
"There should be a 'pant-device' that goes off 'beep-beep-beep' whenever my fly is down"
And there was this sudden mild uproar and everyone came out to see what was happening...and joined our laughter....
********************************************************************************************************
There is this cute lady-doctor (about 30) whose services we often took during my wife's illness. Like pushing a pain-killer shot or arranging a saline drip in our home. She has a small chamber nearby where she sits and examines outdoor patients and attends to house calls nearby when transport is arranged...her hubby has a bike but he comes to her chamber to pick her up and go home after 9 PM.
Often I used to go down to her chamber and fetch her to our home, and back, in my ancient Maruti 800. And during our 5 minute-trip and back I used to talk talk and talk anything but shop. So, we sort of got to grow on each other.
This morning my son, his F-i-L, and myself decided to visit her chamber, break to her formally the sad news about her erstwhile patient, and invite her and her small family to the 13th Day Send-Off Feast to be arranged at noon in our basement car park on the 21st inst.
And as she saw us she fell silent not knowing how to console us.
So, I asked my son and his pop-in-law to be seated in the two chairs opposite hers across the Table. And I went ahead and sat on the tripod patient-stool by her side saying:
"Doctor, here is your next send-off patient from our Nile Valley Home..."
And everyone laughed and the young Doc said reflexively:
"Don't say like that sir...you are like my father!"
And the rest was as easy as eating cake...
=======================================================================
Sribharat Kainkaryam writes:
*****************************************************************************************************
"....As Varun sent me this piece, it was a mixture of some joy and sadness. The fact that you manage to look at a cruel and never a pleasant feeling for people around them called death in such a humorous way, made me think that this is precisely what the world needs! Especially the post about screwdriver-cupboard-rat axis in such a depressing situation was quite amusing...
I
think what people of my generation need to learn is to look for humour
in such depressing dark situations...."
*******************************************************************************************************
*******************************************************************************************************
There is the mortal coil lying there with no hope of the departed soul coming back to claim it and no one knows its whereabouts and wherewithal and wherefore and quo vadis?
And for once it is an occasion (next to childbirth) when the mystery of life smites you in the face whether you are a king or commoner, prince or pauper, Jack or Jill.
In the midst of this otherworldliness there are the incongruous calls of Nature intruding embarrassingly.
To misquote the Autocrat:
"Today's lunch subtends a larger visual angle than yesterday's bereavement"
Humor in a subtle way demystifies the situation and releases the awkward tension, particularly when an aged person indulges in it...for, age has its privileges and the onlookers think that the goof doesn't know that his time will soon be up.
*********************************************************************************************************
In 1983, we got a telegram at KGP that my wife's father (60) passed away in Jalgaon after a massive heart attack.
My wife, my toddler son, and me took the next Bombay Mail and somehow reached Jalgaon after a punishing 30 hour travel. By the time we reached there the cremation was already over and the hall was full of relatives from my wife's side many of who were strangers to me. So, I was looking for an opportunity to escape from the crowd and be left alone for my woolgathering on the streets of Jalgaon.
Word came that my wife's grandfather (75) was arriving by the next train and someone had to go and receive the old man (Retd Executive Engineer). Few were keen to take up this assignment since it was this old man's daughter who got widowed and it would be an embarrassing welcome. I didn't have much hesitation since I knew this gentleman well and that he was down to earth after watching and facing so many bereavements and funerals including his own wife's 4 decades ago.
So I volunteered and went to the Station. As the train arrived and the REE got down and saw me, his eyes turned moist and on our way to the Out Gate he broke down a bit but recovered and I knew that he wouldn't break down again in the crowd.
And I escorted him to the hall and then on he was in the midst of his kith and kin and everyone was consoling everyone else in a Frog Party way, sipping the chai that went round as a hunger-killer.
A couple of hours later the luncheon gong went off and word came from the kitchen that lunch was ready and banana leaves were spread out on the floor and glasses full of water were holding them down from the breeze of the fan.
In the hall there were about 20 males lying down on the floor in a hexagonal close-packing, all hungry, but none willing to get up and take the lead of obvious indelicacy...eating when the departed hungry soul was keenly watching the proceedings!!!
It then was left to the Old Man to break the hypocritical bubble by his wry wit:
"Let us go and eat...for we need energy to continue our mourning"
Then there was a relieved rush with everyone fighting for a seat in the musical floor-seat.
And after their full meal, however, none had the energy to mourn till after they slept off and snored to their heart's content.
And, mark my words, good food and tears don't commute...they all went to the matinee show while I took my toddler son out to the Jalgaon Station to watch the trains.
******************************************************************************************************
The other night my dear departed wife was lying peacefully in state in her glass-topped freezer box in our hall and we, her close kith and kin, spent the whole night reminiscing.
As the day broke, visitors arrived to have a last look and utter a last silent prayer before she was taken down into the lobby for her last rites.
The hall was soon filled by grieving relatives, friends and onlookers sipping the default tea in dispo-cups silently without a murmur.
I got dressed up and came out and found that my son's couple of colleagues who were our real companions in distress assisting us in shifting the freezer box home seven floors above in an ill-fitting 'service lift' last night were siting quietly outside on the steps of the stair case.
I joined them and found that my fly was down in the hurry of hasty dressing.
And I told them in a solemn tone:
"My son's new sedan has this beeper which goes off whenever he forgets to fasten his seat-belt."
The two youngsters listened to me grimly thinking that some awful driving mix-up tale was in the offing.
And I said equally grimly:
"There should be a 'pant-device' that goes off 'beep-beep-beep' whenever my fly is down"
And there was this sudden mild uproar and everyone came out to see what was happening...and joined our laughter....
********************************************************************************************************
There is this cute lady-doctor (about 30) whose services we often took during my wife's illness. Like pushing a pain-killer shot or arranging a saline drip in our home. She has a small chamber nearby where she sits and examines outdoor patients and attends to house calls nearby when transport is arranged...her hubby has a bike but he comes to her chamber to pick her up and go home after 9 PM.
Often I used to go down to her chamber and fetch her to our home, and back, in my ancient Maruti 800. And during our 5 minute-trip and back I used to talk talk and talk anything but shop. So, we sort of got to grow on each other.
This morning my son, his F-i-L, and myself decided to visit her chamber, break to her formally the sad news about her erstwhile patient, and invite her and her small family to the 13th Day Send-Off Feast to be arranged at noon in our basement car park on the 21st inst.
And as she saw us she fell silent not knowing how to console us.
So, I asked my son and his pop-in-law to be seated in the two chairs opposite hers across the Table. And I went ahead and sat on the tripod patient-stool by her side saying:
"Doctor, here is your next send-off patient from our Nile Valley Home..."
And everyone laughed and the young Doc said reflexively:
"Don't say like that sir...you are like my father!"
And the rest was as easy as eating cake...
=======================================================================
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