Death becomes me

I’m turning 65 this year. Some of my friends and colleagues are no more. Every Fellowship dinner of cadre IPS officers and every school/college reunion bring forth news of some more people one knew but have passed on. Increasingly, my thoughts are turning to death. Mine. 

Death worries people. Lust for life is too great and so is the fear of the unknown because no one knows what happens after death. My father passed away suddenly at the age of 65. It took me a long, long time to come to terms with it. 

It feels sad when news of another death comes in. However, I don’t think I’m afraid of death. When I was diagnosed with Cancer in 2017-18, it was a bolt from the blue. As my knowledge of the disease and treatment scenarios were extremely limited then, there was a certain period of uncertainty. I didn’t know how much time I had and whether I’d live to see another birthday. Since then, I’ve taken each day as a gift. Also, I’ve taken care to tie up the financial aspects so that the family members won’t have to run around too much. 

I go to many palaces, forts, museums and historic structures. I think about all those big and grand people who built or sponsored them. All of them must have felt so important and so powerful. Quite a few of them must have thought of themselves at the moment as invincible, possibly immortal. What were their last days like? Did they realise the futility of it all, or did they prepare for it well? 

With the current progress of science, death is still an unconquered frontier and inevitable. In fact, every day after being born, we progress a little towards death. With that realisation comes a certain acceptance. However, if possible, I’d like to have minimum suffering for myself and others. Some people say that many times, one simply knows when the time has come. I hope, when my time comes, I’ll just go quietly, without fuss and without pain. I also hope, I’ll not live being dependent on others. Death is the last thing I’ll do in life; I want to do it gracefully, preferably in style, not “mewling and puking” and sobbing and crying. Life has many aspects, including death. I’d like to accept death as an aspect of life. 

What would my Obit look like if I were to write it myself? May be: 

"There went a guy who looked serious

But was actually very, very mischievous.

He took life as a bloody joke

His job, his career, his relationships all brushed with that one stroke.

He was occasionally good but mostly mediocre

Didn’t mind being an under-achiever.

Now he’s gone but before going, he reminded

Everyone to eulogise or bitch about him but be even-handed." 

Hindus prescribe that when one visits a temple, one shouldn’t exit immediately after the rituals but sit for a while before doing so and quietly meditate upon a prayer: 

"Anāyāsena maraṇaṃ vinādainyena jīvanaṃ

dehānte tava sānnidhyam dehī me parameśvarama ..."

Translated: 

"Give me death without pain

Grant me a life that I’m not dependent on any one [let nobody has to help me sit up or lie down or feed me; let me not be perverse]

When death comes, let me think of and see only you.

O Lord, kindly grant me these three wishes."

I’m not particularly religious but do respect the beliefs of all religions. So, whenever I visit any place of worship, be it a temple or a church or a gurudwara or a mosque, I try to spend some time just sitting there and thinking of the above. 

I like reading and rereading a poem of Emily Dickinson: 

"Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

 

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

 

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

 

Or rather – He passed Us –

The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

 

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

 

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity –"