The First Funeral

I was unable to bid him farewell as he lay on his deathbed and kept asking for me, gently speaking my name, school exams didn't allow me to stay at home. I didn't expect that something like that would happen. After all, he had seen worse days. 

When I reached to see his lifeless body, the first thought emerged as if involuntarily. He is free from the suffering which he endured from as long as I remember. Here is his body not moving in pain, not taking efforts to walk again, yes even simple walking was a humungous task for this extremely ill body. Why are they crying if he is free from physical pain? Where did he go then? Why am I not crying immediately like my family? Why am I thinking about his whereabouts when I know he is dead? I was as emotionless as stone and didn't react at all. Everybody present in the room somehow expected me to cry like them. But they didn't know him personally and yet they were crying bitterly, I couldn't understand how was it possible without loving him. The pitiful hugs annoyed me tremendously from inside, why such gesture? Why do you have to treat his death like some tragedy? He is free, isn't he? Why are you showing off your tears and pain in overdramatic way? What is this wailing loudly in nonsensical ways? You don't care at all about us why do this? Where was everybody all these years? 

The thoughts emerged the following way, He wanted to talk to me, my loving father. But why didn't gods do anything for me if not him. Let me take a vow of not praying to any gods for years to come. I don't need them anymore, I have no desire left. They did what they wanted now it is my turn. I prayed to every god of every religion and yet I am here without him. But the desire to meet my dead father was exceeding everything I ever wanted. 

Desire itself was my obstacle as I see now. And when he was alive all I wanted was his cure. The death of my father reminded me of the reality which is so changeable, so sudden. My mind started playing memories of his existence when he was alive, his qualities of extreme pure honesty and being dignified immediately overpowered my pity for him. The man endured a lot and died without meeting his daughter, calling out her name even in extreme pain and when the death was on his head. He loved me I think. He must have. I don't like these people gathered here in a ritualistic way, why are they here? I haven't seen them all my life, daddy wouldn't like this drama I know him well. 

The thoughts became heavy and put me to sleep immediately, when I woke up I realised that this man is gone, he shall be turned into ashes soon. As if my human desire purged up and I started bursting out crying continuously. This is it. 

In these 12 years of my life what else did I ever want? His cure. He is gone now. What do I do now? I have no one else to call my father. I am not talking to gods so I won't call them just to tend my broken heart. I am upset. Let me keep his news of death hidden from everyone at school, I don't need pity or tragic reactions. I don't want to cry in front of anyone. Let me accept this strange phenomenon. I know this is not the end. I will find him soon. And I did understand him years later when he started coming in my dreams. The power had somehow risen slowly inside of me. I could see he was more in pain because of my own extreme emotional outbursts in his memories and my habit of missing him everyday. The pain was multifold now. I didn't know how to control my desire of having my own father back to life. My own attachment was causing him much more harm and pain. My vibrations of pain and tears aligned with his soul which couldn't do anything as it didn't have a body of its own. He stood there near the huge banyan tree helplessly with a expressionless face. In one of the dreams I asked him, can you come back, why are you not talking to me, why did you go, to which he replied nothing. When I again asked him is there anything I should do, he gently spoke, keep "Bel Patra" in your notebook. I still haven't somehow got a divine timing to do that tiny task, I understand how magical that would be if it's done. 

I wondered why he was named "Ashok" when all his life he was digesting tremendous grief gracefully. Many years later in one of the dream he pointed out towards an evergreen tree filled with thousands and thousands of most beautiful butterflies and asked me to cherish the view. The place was serenely beautiful, so fantastical. I understood he is progressing in his afterlife. He just wanted to share with me his beautiful experience. It was the only thing which he could give in that dimension. 

His coming in my dreams somehow made me feel he was alive and there is nothing to be sad about. He is here with me. Soon the dreams became vague and disappeared. He is nothing now. Literally. But his daughter still is attached somehow to his fatherhood. To his memories. To his voice. To the tattoo of my mother's name on his right hand which he didn't allow even doctors to put injection into. He didn't like the idea of piercing his wife's name even if it was less painful to put injection there in that part of hand. 

But am I again flowing into emotions and taking dreams as acute truth of this cosmos? I don't know. I will have to go deeper within myself soon. Where "I" wouldn't exist. 

And yet his funeral was the first funeral I ever attended. Or made to attend. I didn't like to be there amongst those pretentious people. I knew death was something much greater than what it is appearing to be. The thoughts were alarming and equally strange that day; Where were those ghosts who cunningly entered my dreams? Can they help? Can they meet my father? Shall I have to wait for my death to meet him? What extremities I had as a 12 year old girl.

Nothing scared me from the supernatural world even then. But these humans, this falsehoods, this deceitful fleshes in human forms are surely going to cause me trouble in the coming years. Let me prepare for the battle. It's good I wasn't treated like a princess nor do I think of myself as one. Nor I can be one. That puts an end to my surface ego. 

To make myself more comfortable in life's ordariness I started creating unwanted desires which would act as a goal to make me move forward. The attachment won that day, but now more than a decade has passed and I am paving my way to infinite boundless love for everyone so that nobody ever has to die in vain without my loving energy.