Together

Jason: “Can I see her now?”

Doctor: “Yes. But she can’t talk.”

“Okay.” As Jason rushed past him, the doctor stopped him and said, “Don’t stress her much.” With a nod, Jason entered the cabin.

He slowly came and sat beside me. Needles pierced into my forearms, nostrils blocked for oxygen, electrodes from EEG machine attached on the sides of my forehead; Jason didn’t know which part of me to hold, which he wanted to, so desperately. He just sat there looking at me, monitors beeping in the background.

A week back when he visited, I saw him standing in the corner looking at me and tears rolling down his cheeks. Tears stopped a couple of days back. And today he was just still and stiff, his eyes fixated on me. If only I could look back into his.

But I knew he was there, sitting right next to me. I am not sure by virtue of which sense I knew it, probably it was his scent. Jason noticed my head move a little and he stood up, came close to my almost shrunken face. He saw my lips move and thought I am trying to say something–he brought his ears very close to my lips, all he could feel was feeble air on his lobes. I tried hard to open my eyes and tell it him but I couldn’t. It felt as if I am not in control of my eyes or mouth anymore. But it was important, it had to be said. Among so many other things that I’d want to tell Jason before I am gone, this one thing was the most crucial – if not told, this would leave me haunting. So, I put all I got, I tried to gather energy from my stomach, from my spine, from my throat, my hand started trembling and so did my body. But Jason didn’t budge, he knew I was so desperate to say this. He knew me so well. Jason touched my shaking head and with that touch, I let out a deep breath and whispered, “together”. Everything was quiet after that, only a shrill sound of the flat line from the monitor could be heard. Everything was motionless too, even Jason.

The cabin door banged open with doctors and nurses coming in. They put Jason aside and started checking my vitals. Jason knew I was gone. He stood at the corner looking at my lifeless body, it was the same corner where he usually stood. He knew he wouldn’t get to see me from that corner or any corner ever again. Damn! He loved me like there’s no tomorrow. It just turned literal for me.

When they covered my face with the white sheet, Jason started to walk out and met him at the door. He was not supposed to be surprised but it startled him. 58-year-old man, tall, well-built and stone-faced staring at my body. Jason was not in a situation to avoid eye contact so he said, “Baba..” The man corrected, “Uncle.”

My father approached my lifeless body with a face as neutral as water, heart as heavy as the whole damn world. We were not much in talking terms after my marriage to Jason. Do you know what happens in India when a Brahmin girl from an orthodox family marries a Christian boy? That happened. Although, we knew it’d settle with time. We were so looking forward to it. I know Baba was too. Maybe he was just waiting out a year for our relatives to be placated. We both agreed on a year’s time in our minds without discussion or argument, it’s just an egotist elder daughter-father thing. I knew he’d call me on a random Sunday and invite us home for lunch and everything would have been fine after that. I missed out on that Sunday lunch, laughing with Jason and Baba on the same table, probably even a warm-long hug from him- I missed all of that by one month, 2 weeks and 4 days.

Baba didn’t cry. He sat next to me, patted my head gently and hummed the song he used to sing to put me to sleep, the little me would snore away within seconds. I so wish I could feel that touch one last time, touchback and say I am sorry Baba.

The pat stopped with indistinct chatter, he went outside the cabin and saw Jason signing some documents. He slapped on the paper and asked Jason, “What are you doing?” Startled, Jason replied in a broken voice, “These are dead body release papers, I am signing it so that we can take the body and arrange for a funeral by tomorrow morning. The doctor suggested it is better to do it as early as possible.”

“Funeral? Of my daughter?” his voice rose, “Don’t you dare touch her anymore Mr. Jason Rosa. She will not be buried. She never converted into your religion, she is a Hindu and she will be cremated. And I’ll sign those papers.”

Jason blanked out with a picture of me getting burnt, he lost his voice and expression for a couple of seconds. Once back, he fell on my father’s feet, weeping, “Please Baba.. Sorry, Uncle.. please I beg you don’t burn her. I can’t imagine her turning into ashes, please!”

With that, the Hospital staff intervened. Jason stood up. The doctor understood the situation and suggested to take the night off and come back tomorrow morning to sign the papers. Jason nodded at that rubbing off his tears, Baba reluctantly agreed. “And please maintain silence,” the Doctor said while directing the staff to take my body to the morgue.

My father finally noticed the unwanted attention he attracted and felt embarrassed. As for Jason, he was still overwhelmed by fire. Baba turned to Jason and said, “I can’t let her rot away, we don’t do that.” 

Looking away, Jason replied, “I respect you Mr. Chatterjee but I’ll not let you burn her down either,” and left.

My skin's still burning from your touch

Oh, I just can't get enough,

I said I wouldn't ask for much

But your eyes are dangerous,

So, the world keeps spinning in my head

Can we drop this masquerade?

I can't predict where it ends

If you're the rock I'll crush against.

My skin's still burning from your touch...

Jason woke up and sat straight on his bed, terrified and sweaty. How can a romantic song give me a nightmare? Why did it make me feel so hot? Why was I dreaming of a song anyway? Am I losing my mind? Jason took a deep breath and tried to calm his thoughts down. Then covered his sweaty face with his sweatier palm. 

“How can I let you burn, Aleya?”

He said looking at my side of the bed.

I usually read a book at this time of the night while Jason worked or watched soccer. On Manchester United scoring, he’d shout, “Aleya, see I told you, they’ll damn this motherf***er.” I’d say “Yahoo, Yay” in a monotone without even looking up. Jason just needed a company to acknowledge his sledding. After the match, he’d crawl onto my lap, face up – if United won, otherwise face down. On most days, he’d fall asleep like that.

“How can your father burn your body to ashes?

And how can I just watch you burn?”

“You don’t have to, love. And it doesn’t matter if I am burnt or buried, I am gone anyway. But I left you and Baba alone. Just do me one last favor, J. Please do my last rites together with Baba. Will you, please? Will you promise me, J?” I, invisibly, inaudibly and desperately requested Jason, in vain. He was staring at the book–still marked by folded paper-lying on my side table. However, for a moment I think I saw him looking straight into my eyes. The chaotic lines on his face seemed to level out a bit. Next, he crawled under our blanket, held my pillow tight onto his chest, closed his eyes and asked,

“And, how do I learn to live without you, Aleya?”

The next afternoon, Jason stood among his friends and relatives, mostly dressed in black. Jason’s face was inexpressive, with a dash of restlessness. He looked at his watch and towards the entrance in almost alternate seconds, till he saw a cab arrive. “St. Paul’s Cemetery?” the old man confirmed from the cab driver.  

Jason ran towards the gate to receive him. He looked at Jason and walked towards the funeral without speaking to him.

5 hours ago: Hospital

Jason and Baba sat on a bench outside the morgue. The Doctor stood at a distance, acknowledging the sensitivity of the situation. He could hear Jason indistinctively, “.But I won’t even be able to visit her afterward..” He could just see Baba talking in a very mellowed but animated manner. After a few minutes, he walked up to them and interrupted, “I understand the complexity of the situation, but please forgive me, I need either of you to sign and release the body.”

Now: St. Paul’s Cemetery

Baba looked at the stone with my name carved on it- “Loving daughter and wife – Aleya” then kept staring at the grave. Jason whispered, “Uncle, it is time.” Baba knew it was time too. He said, “I’ll get her.” Jason didn’t request if he should come by as he was too upset to get rejected at this point. “Jason..” Baba continued, “Please help me get her?” 

3 hours ago: Hindu Burning Ghat

“How is it going to happen? I mean from where? Will she be wearing clothes? Can we see it happen? No, I don’t want to. But how much time? Does it happen fast? Will you be putting any catalyst?” Jason babbled with the cremation machine operator. Baba made Jason sit down and said, “It’s okay, I promise.” Jason saw a flash of me in him, he never realized I resembled my father so much, until then. While my body got cremated, Jason cried like a baby, almost howling. I so desperately wanted to hold him and say, “It’s okay love. Just a bit more.” But I could barely move. My motion was not voluntary. Since my death, I have abruptly visited Jason, Baba and one other person. I can’t move an inch on my own, I am drawn; I am drawn towards someone who’s emotionally high on me at that moment. Just like right now. Baba sobbed occasionally, on the outside. 

Now: St. Paul’s Cemetery

Jason and baba brought the urn with my ashes, together. Put it inside the grave, together. Buried me together. Burnt me together. And cried together.

Right then, I felt something pouring through me, an odd sensation of unearthly contentment. With that sight, suddenly everything started turning white.

I don’t remember after that. it’s just white now.. everything, in totality. there was no pain after I lost my body. Only wishes, regrets and sadness lingered on, intense urge to go back and fix a few things. As I flew deeper into the whiteness, I lost all of that. No sensation whatsoever. I guess this is what being free is all about. When we are alive, we associate our happiness and freedom with people, things, events.. and pursue them relentlessly. It is only on our death bed that we realize the real deal is so different. On mine, I couldn’t fathom what ultimately would make me content enough to set myself free.

On a Sunday afternoon: Back on earth

Jason: Thank you, Uncle, for the call, I was not sure if I should. I wanted you to have this (handing over a framed picture of Aleya and Mr. Chatterjee).

Mr. Chatterjee (looking at the picture): You said the Father of the church wasn’t allowing space for Aleya in the cemetery as she was not a Christian. And so, you agreed for the cremation?

Jason: Yes?

Mr. Chatterjee: I know you lied to me. It wasn’t the Father, it was you. 

Jason: Well Uncle.

Mr. Chatterjee (interrupting): I know it wasn’t easy for you to agree to it and worst, sit through it. I know and understand that personally. But you did it. For Aleya, for me.

Jason: She was all I had.

Mr. Chatterjee: I can see why she chose you.

(After a pause) Have lunch with me before you go. I know she wanted this to happen since your marriage. And Jason.

Jason (smiling): Yes, Uncle?

Mr. Chatterjee: Call me Baba.