23rd September marks one of the equinoxes. For my last bencher homies ‘equinox is a day when day & night are equal’. While this still holds to be scientifically true, I had an otherwise experience.
It would be a shame if I don’t honour my father’s ‘writer blood’ which runs maybe as skillfully within me to express my grief & pride at these testing times.
If you know me well enough, you would probably know how BIG I have been about my birthdays. Probably the only source of constant excitement in my life, I would always start planning at least six months in advance & would ensure none of my friends/close relatives forget my special day. Growing up with a very humble household income, my parents would save with equal zest to give me the best possible celebration. However, no birthday would be complete without papa throwing in “birthday parties are wastage of money”.
This birthday was a bit different, in fact it was far away from what anyone could have comprehended. Being my 25th, I was super pumped (& scared) to become an actual adult & wanted to have the grandest celebration ever. After pushing my financial boundaries a bit, I booked a luxe farmhouse and invited around 50 friends to join me on my prolly most anticipated day. To make room for my family time, I had pushed the party to 24th of September & indulged myself in crazy preparations.
However, the destiny had other plans for me and my family. Usually, I was accustomed to cut cake at midnight with my parents but that night we decided to wait for the noon so my closest friends and mama-mami can join us as well. For the first time, I ended up cutting my first cake at gym (around 8AM) because I felt like it. Yep, that was all the celebration I had for my big 25th!
On my way back home, my legs refused to comply and felt heavy. I knew my father started getting restless right after wishing me at midnight. Later, we were told that he had 2 major heart attacks during the night itself, we couldn’t tell.
I came back home to papa throwing up and resting, almost lifeless. We were worried but he refused to go to hospital in middle of ugly rains (it rained like anything from 21st to 24th). We called over some technicians to get his ECG and some other tests done at home. The results weren’t promising.
Papa sat down with us for a while before finding it difficult to breath. We couldn’t wrap our head around the same as he was a man of fitness with daily walking and pranayam in his routine. We made up our mind to take him to the hospital irrespective of his protests. At the same time, my mama-mami arrived in all celebratory mood, only to be greeted by uneventfulness. They all rushed him to the hospital; I was too timid to go.
Around 12:30 noon, papa was admitted, and the doctor told us it was too late. We all panicked but we were still hopeful. His heart & veins were damaged, the arteries weren’t pumping, and he wasn’t responding to any treatment. The doctor declared that we can just wait for the next 24–48 hours.
During the entire time, papa was conscious but restless. He had no clue what was happening, and he hated being attached to so many machines. I visited him once around evening but didn’t have nerve to talk much. I left the CCU and relied on my mother to give him strength & motivation. All this while, papa was worried only about my birthday & the celebrations we couldn’t see.
My mother had mama-mami and our neighbours, I had 2 of my closest friends. We all consulted over 20 doctors for some ray of hope but there wasn’t much to see. We could only wait & ‘hope’. At night, me and my mother went to the hospital to stay there for the night. We weren’t allow to visit papa, unless called. A nurse called me twice so I can talk him to stay straight and cooperate. Papa was more restless than before, his oxygen was dropping like our hopes. The last thing I promised him “we will take you home tomorrow afternoon” (we did) & his last wish was “make sure you party well tomorrow”.
All this while, I kept an eye on the watch and impatiently waited for the day to get over.It was THE LONGEST DAY for me. Somewhere, I knew that he would either leave us today or would be around for a long time. I was right- papa went to final sleep at 11:29 PM. Watching the straight line on his ECG monitor was probably the most disturbing thing I could ever see.
He passed away peacefully, without suffering much or bothering us with his chores. He knew he was going, he was just keeping himself strong so I could celebrate.
25 years ago, that day, he was the happiest man who distributed sweets like crazy at the hospital I was born. That day, again he was the happiest man as he had left us for a better place. Both the days, I had tears in my eyes, for different reasons- of course. Such is the cycle of life, my friend.
24th September, 2022: The rain wouldn’t stopped. Delhi hasn’t seen such a visual in a long long time. 4 days of continuous rainfall, that too in September. Are you kidding me? Maybe the sky was crying with us, for such a noble man has left us forever. Papa had been an inspiration & mentor to many, he had always given people more than he had, he had no bad habits and was a big name in hindi journalism. People’s love for him is something we’re still realising every passing day.
Hold up, or maybe the sky was celebrating papa’s hardworking & fulfilling life with us and blessing him to take re-birth at a better place? Guess we would never know.
Honouring my father’s last wish, I wore my birthday dress and sat beside his lifeless body. We cut the cake together for one last time and had a bite. He had a very calm & composed expression, which sort of shocked most of the people. My mother uttered “be happy wherever you go” & this gave everyone a lot of strength.
Rain showed us a little mercy & decided to take a break. We carried papa to the cremation ground without any hindrances. Our little yet longest trip was once again welcomed by heavy downpour which made it quite difficult to perform the rituals.
Despite the rains, around 100 people had gathered around to meet papa for the last time. A lot of them remained unbothered while carefully running with heavy logs for papa’s funeral pyre. It was one of the most beautiful & scarring moments of my life.
With shivering hands, I fired up the pyre and said my last goodbye. The rain stopped as well.
Next day when I went to crematorium to pick up papa’s remains, I could feel this saying coming to life “mitti ka shareer hai, mitti me hi mil jayega.”