3 years ago, this day, my father became a star in the sky. Well, when Zoya asked me where is Dadupa, that's what I told her - Dadupa has become a star in the sky. She was fascinated by the thought that suddenly, the person who used to tell her stories in his lap was now showering a dull, calming light in the night sky. Since then, we refer to his death as him becoming a star in the sky.
I feel that death indicates a stop. A shuddering halt to a journey in motion. A full stop. A curtain call. Star in the sky indicates a transition. A journey from 'here' to 'there'. There's a continuity to it, a fluidity to it that is reminiscent of life itself. It is as if in death, a new life is achieved.
Today, on the occasion of his becoming a star in the sky, I am assaulted by a lot of thoughts - a lot of them conflicting, colliding but then coalescing into the same dull, calming light inside that he emanates outside.
These thoughts are like passing slides of a motion picture. Actually no, they flit across the firmament of my mind like the dust particles that suddenly appear out of nothing when a ray of sunlight peeks into my room.
The first thought I was hit by was that time is indeed a big healer. Today, in the morning havan for my star's shanti, my whole life with him flashed past me as a series of images. And amazingly, all images were from the happy times we had spent together - him visiting us in Singapore, in Mumbai, our holidays in Thailand and our visits to Pathankot. Him playing with Zoya on her 1st birthday, him teaching us in Govt College Talwara. The last month before he left us did not come up! At all! When people, in the immediate aftermath of his passing away, told me 'samay ke saath sab theek ho jayega', I would scream inside, 'you don't know what I'm going through! So don't tell me it'll be ok' and manage a silent nod outside. But now, it appears to be true. When I spread out our lives together on a timeline, the last month of pain diminishes in import compared to the 34 years of joy! Time is indeed a big healer and the more we let it do its job, the better it does its job!
The second that hit me was our preoccupation with the past. We commemorate, we relive, we analyze our past at the expense of our present. We mourn our dead at the expense of the living. There are people in my life who are the flesh of his flesh and the blood of his blood - they are the celebration of what he created. My brother and my sister - who hurt everyday from losing his presence around them. My mother - who has emerged a giant from the time her world collapsed around her. Maybe the best way to keep him alive is to keep my love for them alive.
Hurt is a funny thing. When you are hurting, you think hurting others will make your hurt go away. It doesn't work that way. Hurt is a vicious cycle - the more we are hurt, the more we hurt and then the more we are hurt. I don't know how to break the cycle. Different things work for different people. Some people get tired of carrying so much bile in them that they give in to their greater self. Some people get shaken out of their stupor of the hurt cycle by someone - who is objective and is trusted. Some people undergo moments where their hurt suddenly appears insignificant in front of life. But one thing is for sure - hurt erodes the wholeness of life. It nibbles at you every time you act out of hurt. And the more you indulge in minor quibbles to hurt others, the less you are left of yourself. I only wish everyone can find within or around him, the impulse that will pull him out of the cycle of hurt and put him on the path of love.
Another thing that lives beyond my dad are the values that he lived by. Everyday that I stand up for what I believe in, I live him. Everyday, that I do my duty without worrying about results, I live him. Everyday, that I disallow people from hurting me by having no expectations from them, I live him. These are not recipes for happy living - no way am I saying these are great ideas or that he was a saint. This is the way he lived life and I become him when I live my life this way. Isn't this a wonderful way of keeping someone alive by moving forward via his values? Instead, we mop and mourn and yearn for what could have been!
So today, when I got up from the havan, I had a sense of peace about me. I knew that I was my father's son. And in living his values and loving his creations, I was him.
I feel that death indicates a stop. A shuddering halt to a journey in motion. A full stop. A curtain call. Star in the sky indicates a transition. A journey from 'here' to 'there'. There's a continuity to it, a fluidity to it that is reminiscent of life itself. It is as if in death, a new life is achieved.
Today, on the occasion of his becoming a star in the sky, I am assaulted by a lot of thoughts - a lot of them conflicting, colliding but then coalescing into the same dull, calming light inside that he emanates outside.
These thoughts are like passing slides of a motion picture. Actually no, they flit across the firmament of my mind like the dust particles that suddenly appear out of nothing when a ray of sunlight peeks into my room.
The first thought I was hit by was that time is indeed a big healer. Today, in the morning havan for my star's shanti, my whole life with him flashed past me as a series of images. And amazingly, all images were from the happy times we had spent together - him visiting us in Singapore, in Mumbai, our holidays in Thailand and our visits to Pathankot. Him playing with Zoya on her 1st birthday, him teaching us in Govt College Talwara. The last month before he left us did not come up! At all! When people, in the immediate aftermath of his passing away, told me 'samay ke saath sab theek ho jayega', I would scream inside, 'you don't know what I'm going through! So don't tell me it'll be ok' and manage a silent nod outside. But now, it appears to be true. When I spread out our lives together on a timeline, the last month of pain diminishes in import compared to the 34 years of joy! Time is indeed a big healer and the more we let it do its job, the better it does its job!
The second that hit me was our preoccupation with the past. We commemorate, we relive, we analyze our past at the expense of our present. We mourn our dead at the expense of the living. There are people in my life who are the flesh of his flesh and the blood of his blood - they are the celebration of what he created. My brother and my sister - who hurt everyday from losing his presence around them. My mother - who has emerged a giant from the time her world collapsed around her. Maybe the best way to keep him alive is to keep my love for them alive.
Hurt is a funny thing. When you are hurting, you think hurting others will make your hurt go away. It doesn't work that way. Hurt is a vicious cycle - the more we are hurt, the more we hurt and then the more we are hurt. I don't know how to break the cycle. Different things work for different people. Some people get tired of carrying so much bile in them that they give in to their greater self. Some people get shaken out of their stupor of the hurt cycle by someone - who is objective and is trusted. Some people undergo moments where their hurt suddenly appears insignificant in front of life. But one thing is for sure - hurt erodes the wholeness of life. It nibbles at you every time you act out of hurt. And the more you indulge in minor quibbles to hurt others, the less you are left of yourself. I only wish everyone can find within or around him, the impulse that will pull him out of the cycle of hurt and put him on the path of love.
Another thing that lives beyond my dad are the values that he lived by. Everyday that I stand up for what I believe in, I live him. Everyday, that I do my duty without worrying about results, I live him. Everyday, that I disallow people from hurting me by having no expectations from them, I live him. These are not recipes for happy living - no way am I saying these are great ideas or that he was a saint. This is the way he lived life and I become him when I live my life this way. Isn't this a wonderful way of keeping someone alive by moving forward via his values? Instead, we mop and mourn and yearn for what could have been!
So today, when I got up from the havan, I had a sense of peace about me. I knew that I was my father's son. And in living his values and loving his creations, I was him.
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