In my last post I had mentioned that I’m not much of a rituals person and that I dislike priests. With rare passion, I might add. Here’s one more reason why I’ll put up with a six-foot cobra but not this annoying, parasitical species...

Yesterday, a classmate and friend from long ago called up from down south. He’d heard about the death at home and wanted to offer his condolences. He said he’d been meaning to call for a long time but was caught up with a few things of his own. As it turned out, he’d lost his elder brother. The brother, a bachelor, died in a road accident. We were discussing our mutual dislike for the rituals that follow death when he told me something that was absolutely shocking. And bizarre.

Apparently, rituals for married people differ from those for unmarried folk. When they finally reached a decision about what was to be done for my friend’s brother, the priest came up with a new problem. He insisted that, before those agreed upon rituals could be performed, the unmarried dead brother had to be formally married. My friend was appalled and, justifiably so, protested. He had a major argument with the priest (my reaction might’ve been more physical and, therefore, infinitely more suitable) and his own family members who, like him, were completely unaware of the rule but who didn’t want to offend the priest. Perhaps because he was outnumbered, and considering the nature of the occasion, my friend had no choice but to give in. As a result, a marriage ceremony was conducted for the poor dead man before his last rites could be performed. Does that make any sense? Of course, I didn’t have the heart to ask my friend who his brother was married to. This whole business would’ve been symbolic, I know, but, still, does it make any sense at all? I don’t think so.

Not only does the family have to deal with their loss and grief, now they also have to put up with such complete nonsense. When I asked another friend, who is also from the south, she said she’d never heard of anything like this!

I have no doubt in my mind that, like almost every other damned ritual and ceremony that unsuspecting folk are asked to perform, this too has its origins in these rascals’ greed to corner extra money. For instance, if a human being were to die while still on a bed, as opposed to passing away while lying down on the floor, you’re expected to perform an extra ritual, over and above the others that are laid down, because, apparently, this brings peace to the soul. And, oh, this additional ritual will cost you an extra four hundred bucks!

These shits, they so piss me off!

To say that the last eight or nine months have been very strange and very difficult for me, even life altering in some ways, would be an understatement. But, having learnt my bitter lesson, that will all go down in a very personal and secret blog that I hope to start very soon :-)

Anyway, moving on...first, let me thank all of you for your comments and condolence messages. I really appreciate it.

I don’t know how many of you have had the occasion to be part of funeral proceedings from close quarters. Although this was the second time in my immediate family, it was my first in terms of complete involvement. And, I wish I had something nice to say about the whole business. On the contrary, some of the rituals seemed completely morbid to me and, in fact, made my stomach turn...in a manner of speaking. Although some of my friends think otherwise, even offering reasons and explanations behind some of the rituals and acts, I’m not convinced at all. What makes it worse for me is the involvement of priests, whose mere sight has always been enough to give me a hemorrhage. The whole system has been designed and manipulated by these wretches, whose only aim appears to be to benefit themselves and their greedy brethren.

It’s like Tabula Rasa said on his blog some time back, and again in his comment against my last post, death is not about the person who passes on. It’s really about those that this person leaves behind. I remember writing in his blog that I’m quite okay with death. I can handle death, even that of those around me. What is really difficult, however, is to see the person suffer. In both the cases at home, unfortunately, there was some suffering. This time, the last few hours were particularly difficult for the person and quite painful to watch. What was really shocking was the astonishing speed at which this person’s condition worsened. Even the doc, whom we called over a few minutes before the end came, was taken aback at seeing this person and the deterioration in the three weeks since the person had been discharged from hospital. Given this person’s age and the suddenness of it all, somehow, makes the whole thing seem unreal...as though it hasn’t really happened.

When I die, I want to be taken straight to the electric crematorium and be done with. I would like the ashes to be scattered on any patch of green...ideally, among my many pots and plants at home. My eyes have been pledged since 1989 and, hopefully, whoever is around me when I go will have the decency to allow them to be taken for another human being to use. I also wish to pledge use of all the other organs of my body, either for the benefit of other human being/s or for scientific and medical research.

Would you tell someone that they are seriously ill and, in fact, may not have much time? A couple of months or so ago, there was a big discussion about a similar issue on M’s blog. (Sadly, for some personal reasons, she has not been blogging for a while.) My own take on this, based on personal experience and general belief, was that the person has a right to know. Now, in a similar situation again, I have revised my opinion a little. I still believe that one cannot keep such vital information from the concerned person. S/he has a right to know and, perhaps, more than others. But, I have also come to believe that such revelation, if there should be one at all, depends entirely on the person himself/herself. If I were sick, without a shadow of doubt, I’d want to know. Everything. Including the exact nature of my sickness and how much time I have left. I don’t know how that would help me or what I think I’ll achieve by knowing but, all the same, I’d like to be told.

There’re some people, however, who, you know, will not receive this information well. Because, through life, and through one’s actions and general beliefs, one creates a personal history, which, whether right or not, helps others around to form a certain opinion of the kind of person one is and what one’s take on various things is. There’re also some around that person who, you know again, will not be able to handle the news. Wise or not, this is what we’ve chosen to do. We’ve kept the information from the person who’s ill and from another person around this person. And, since these two don’t know, it seems unfair and wrong to tell the relatives, who, being who they are, are speculating anyway. Even fishing for information. But, being who I am, I’ve never bothered with established protocols and am not about to start now.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’ll regret this later but, although I do have misgivings about this, I’m not sure what good it’ll do to tell. The concerned person already seems beyond comprehending the truth, barely able to speak and, at most times, forgetful and disorientated. And, as my friend said, the only other person who doesn’t know, perhaps, is better off not knowing. It’s better for this person not to know and, therefore, not expect the worst everyday. It’s better this way because, besides age, this person has plenty of other personal physical problems to deal with.

Such situations cannot have definite rights or wrongs, I know, but that’s hardly comforting. It’s bad enough to watch someone deteriorate and slip away and these nagging doubts, about holding back information and the attendant guilt, only make it more difficult.

I was in Bombay when I got this news. When I spoke to the doctor from there, I was told that this person doesn’t have much time. I’m quite amazed that the same doctor and his team couldn’t detect the problem three weeks prior to this announcement, when this person was first hospitalised. At that time, the person was treated for a different ailment and given around 25-30 injections during the three days in hospital. How can they get it so wrong? Or, at any rate, fail to detect something so serious? I’m not sure it even makes sense.

Anyway, since modern medicine cannot do very much now, we’ve turned to alternative medicine but I’m not sure how effective it’s going to be at this stage. It’s not magic, after all.

(April 29) From the time that I first started to write this post, three days ago, there has been significant deterioration in the person’s condition. The signs, which I can co-relate to a similar illness in another person in the family many years ago, are rather ominous and anything that one does now only amounts to clutching at straws. But what else can one do?

(May 2, 2006) It doesn’t matter any more now, I guess. This person passed on on this Saturday, April 29.