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Monday, October 29, 2018

November Gloom Is A Creep


For Those Who Grieve
For Those Birthed By The Twins Of Grief And Celebration
For Those Who Celebrate For They Have Nothing Left To Grieve


Shared with readers for the first time, as these dates come around again in 2018

Being in an indefinable space and time that happens to be 1st November 2016 of the calendar, I  have been hopping from one topic to another, toying listlessly with each one before giving in to the pervading gloom that comes back to cling to me. November gloom is a creep. And I mean a real creep. It creeps upon you in the aftermath of the celebrations. It helps to have the festivals stretch comfortably over the first few days of the darkest month of the year. This time they all came in a mad rush at the tail end of October and blew themselves out like a myriad candles that suddenly felt weary of lighting up lives. And it’s horrible for me.

Because I am alone, increasingly lonely and thinking more than ever of sixteen years ago and that dreadful evening of 1st November, standing in the corner behind the door where now stands a switchboard that lights up my altar. Talking on a landline, over a dismally long distance in the twilight, to a melancholy house that had once throbbed with life and hope. From a corner where I had stood barely 48 hours earlier hearing the words that left me numb and trembling inside - Yama’s final stroke in a lonely guesthouse where no one belonged. Suddenly I find that 16 years that were meant to heal and had chances to, have only widened and deepened the dark empty vault of bereavement. Maybe I have been jolted by the sudden death of Maitreyee’s dad. While lighting a candle for him on Deepavali, I was reliving the loss of my brother right after the festival in a way I didn’t these past so many Deepavalis 

Grief is for the grieving, as life is for the living. No-one can order it out. It has a way of leaving its lingering scent in some forgotten corner to suddenly awaken at a touch. What’s worse is that it scatters its seeds in the wake of parting. Tiny and numerous like mustard or maybe like the black sesame seeds we offer the ancestors during Pitru Paksha, laden with mystery and nutrients. A bit like both, because they roll away like mustard into dark unsuspected crannies. Sometimes they sprout unexpectedly. Sometimes we gather them up and toss them out, but there will always be a couple that got away.

Have you ever spilled mustard seeds from a packet and tried chasing them around? The seeds of grief behave the same way. There are times when we pause and gather them carefully and lock them away in a vault where no light or air can reach them. They are sacred; we dare not disrespect them for they are the seeds of connection with those we have lost. They are seeds, they hold the power of life. Amazing for something that connects us with the dead. They hold the power to germinate, though germinate into what, perhaps depends on how we tend them. There are times when we open the vault and a miraculous ray of sunshine and a breath of air that snuck in unseen, have left tiny poignant plants in their place that remind us that we were connected to a living being. 

In these sixteen years perhaps I neglected some seeds, planted and tended others while yet others are locked away in a vault. A clock, a T-shirt, a pair of earrings – the last I ever wore. I have not worn earrings in 16 years – can you believe it? I am never able to, my ears get so inflamed! With anguish?

Why is Halloween, a the day of fun,  at a liminus with All Soul’s Day? Why is Bhoot Chaturdashi as much about spooks and sprites as it is about wishing the ancestors safe passage towards higher energies? I can understand now that while Pitru Paksha brings them to us, this occasion sends them on their way. Returning to those seeds, there are yet others that rolled into corners, some I deliberately tossed out in anger. A still-young, vulnerable lover grieving her beloved, closed herself in unbelievably. She too felt anger after the edge of grief wore off – towards me and my mother because it helps to turn it outwards. Today she is grandmother to teens and little ones! 

Meanwhile a mother passed on without ever venting or sharing her grief. Again a brother turned all his anger towards the wrong people. Sadly those people were us/me all over again. Their emotions have also riddled my home with seeds of all kinds. Amidst these are the seeds that bring sweet harvests. I am gathering them slowly, one at a time, reminding myself that they will endure and take charge over time. There are sweet memories of my brother’s strength and compassion, of the way he carried me aged 10 on his back when I tired out climbing slopes – the first thing he recalled when I got him into hospital and saved his life in the first instance. 

Diwali once in a while cruelly coincides with that day of dumb shock and emptiness – 30th October. Mostly, light has won over those days because I had the youthful energies to suppress the darkness. But as I move towards another threshold that brings me closer to my own end, I feel the pangs afresh. It seems like I have completed my wanderings away from the grief to come full circle and bump into it when I didn’t really expect to. These circles, these spirals, they are the ultimate tricksters. Halloween’s innocent "trick or treat" takes on a painful edge and trick seems to be the winner. And I seem to have more and more in common with those disembodied spirits that lurk around awaiting attention.

I have started and abandoned many editions of Pages since Kali Puja. It seems I cannot write about anything anymore unless I give these abandoned seeds their due and their place of honor. I need to engage with these spirits and tell them it’s ok, we will all find our journey towards peace. After reading a friend’s post it struck me that Bhoot Chaturdashi  which we always thought of as a day for swapping ghost stories, was solemn for those who had lost loved ones. She would know, having lost her dad at a tender age. Today the day reserved for brothers when Yama is worshipped all over again  (Bhratridwitiya,) just 4 days after Yamadeepam, this time with Chitragupta in tow. That’s a lot of death gamboling amidst us during the festival of light. There’s Kali the destructor as well. I didn’t think of it at all. 

The only time my family engaged with Yama was to celebrate Savitri’s intellectual victory over him every March. On Kali Puja I had savored the closeness of Kali as protector (she is considered Vishnu’s twin). But the day after, it was all gone before I could write it down. My vacuum has been all the more poignant on seeing the celebrations of others, the conversations around family and friends, the bonding in groups. Even though I tried to find joy in their joy, I felt more alone than ever with the lamps and their shadows, Chloe and my camera for company apart from the horrendous noise. I recalled how decades ago we would set out in the evening braving the fireworks, driving carefully through risk laden roads where rowdies placed crackers in the path of cars and lit them, abruptly bringing vehicles to a screeching halt to serve their demoniacal capers. We risked it all because we wanted to meet two lonely old souls who were alone at Diwali and light up their lives and fill them with a sense of home and family.

I never felt this way before. I guess old age awaits me at the threshold. Thank you Yama, you didn’t let my brother experience it though he got more than a taste through that bitter illness. Today is your Deepam again and this time it’s your sister Yamuna cheering for YOUR long life. So shall we say Happy Birthday??? Keep well and keep sane. And interpret that CG dude’s ledger with compassion!

PS1 I wonder why Bhratridwitiya is not celebrated in South India. Pretty much as Yama Deepam is not.

PS2 It was painful bringing this post out of my system. It comes through as intense but you know it is not meant to hurt anyone. I emphasize this as I post this publicly. Know that I love you all deeply.

PS3 The picture has the diya-candle for my brother. After the two naughty ones that drowned I decided not to float the boat but to anchor it! Behind it you can see the Ganesh stone that represents the brother I have left*. He brought it from Ganapatipule beach and gifted it to me. On that bitter November morning in 2000 he had the toughest job of all - to send his brother across. The 3 black Ganeshs are the ones my older brother would play with which he suddenly decided to install in his grandma’s altar for worship. I like to keep these 3 and the stone Ganesh together. They somehow represent the bond between us siblings.



*There are no brothers left to lose. He left us on 3rd January '18*

17 comments:

  1. The grief of the loss brings back loving memories but for me the most painful are those that I have been with those departed, a bit careless, taking there presence for granted as if they will never leave my side ever and defying all my belief, they did leave with all the pain and grief, both my grandfather and my father. I still cannot believe they are not around.i can almost feel their presence still each time I see their pictures or remember the time I spent with them., sometimes in awe of the persons they were, sometimes being a stubborn kid and other times just carelessly preoccupied with my own problems. I will never stop ��loving them ever. Because they have been my guiding lughts.

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    1. I have been reflecting on your words since reading them yesterday. May your tears help those seeds to sprout into healthy, hopeful plants of the future. Take care!

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  2. Thanks for including me. The mustard seed analogy really hit home. We would watch basketball games together on a Sunday afternoon. I thought doing this yesterday would be 'a miraculous day of sunshine' but sadly, not.

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    1. This is so touching Colleen. I hope you get a sunshine day soon.
      I have been trying to reflect on the loss and grief of each of my friends, while posting that tribute. Will include more as they come to mind. Take care of yourself.

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  3. You know Maya, have, often wondered overs over the role of those 13 days of mourning. I really see very late that, at least for the womenfolk of the family, perhaps evenings including menfolk too, the ritual gathering and talking works it's way round to recall: or precious shared my Moments , of shared experiences, sometimes things going terribly wrong, working around those, family disputes etc. That sharing perhaps is venting on a sense... Leading to diffuses grievances for those intelligent enough to realise Bon value of grudges and all work out some issues. By the 13 th Day, a load is lightened and a slow acceptance sets in, In different unique form S for each. Yes, missing remains, some ingrained grudges held tight, but little ones dealt n disposed by airing. Some rituals do hold human emotional value. Pity is they are "out of fashion" bow.

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    1. It works only when people are on the same wavelength. I am incredibly relieved that I did not have any of this going on when losing my loved ones. A family that does not get along and which has fundamental differences thrown together at the time of bereavement is like hell on earth. My I was in the situation and some of my loved ones have been in it too. I will not elaborate as this is a public space. It is especially problematic in a situation where you have a Brahmanical structure in place. I am personally grateful that we can handle death and mourning as the individual sees fit. The model you mention works when the members concerned have a basic commonality of outlook despite differences and grudges

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  4. My condolences on your loss. I am at a loss for words so forgive me for quoting the words of another "It is such a mysterious place, the land of tears." Somehow this post took me back to my childhood Diwali days and choto thakuma and my eyes are a little moist.

    I want to take your blessings as I move ahead and am glad I met you online. I conclude once again by sharing my heartfelt condolences on your loss.

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    1. I'm so touched that you felt the deep connection. Thank you so much for commenting. It means so much to me. I am grateful I connected with you and honored that this helped you feel her. My eyes are moist too. You have my abundant blessings for every step of your journey my kid

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  5. I know what you feel and how certain days when others celebrate, one feels like coiling into fetal position, shutting the world out. I don't know that I will ever not feel the loss of my brother. There is a gaping hole in my heart, there is a limb I miss, and that hasn't changed. I don't know how people get over losses, I just seem to be bogged down with more of them. The mustard analogy is perfect, just when you think you have control over some of it, you can see other areas of your life slip away. Hugs and strength, my friend. That, and whatever consolation it gives to know you're not alone.

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    1. I am deeply grateful to you Lali for reading and commenting. It means so much and I draw strength from the fact that you share these feelings. Yes there have been so many losses in a row coming thick and fast. Let us hold together and allow the warmth of connection to carry us through. Lots of love

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  6. I have not felt a fraction of the grief that you have experienced. I can only hope that I am half as stoic and articulate when the time comes... Oh, and can I steal "dark empty vault of bereavement" to put in one of my songs sometime? 😅

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    1. Yes do steal it with credit :) ;)
      You have certainly felt this in your imagination or another lifetime as your words to me on FB indicate. I quote them here.
      "The image of sesame seeds was powerful... I was having crazy ideas like letting them lie around so they can weave themselves into a carpet of our context. Chucking them out could also be letting them go like beads of a rosary in super slow-motion as part of a desperate prayer to be free of grief..."

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    2. I really should have commented the same here... but I was a little disoriented after the profundity of your blog. And yes, the credit will surely be due 😁

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    3. I planted it here for you. And I know you'll give credit :)

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  7. This is so poignant. It ia almost sixteen years since my brother left us so suddenly. He missed out on so much of Life, but we try to remember him with joy. The past few years have been so full of losses, how many mustard seeds can one collect in a lifetime?

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    1. Aww Dipali, I feel you. Most roll away, a few turn up to surprise us and those are the ones who hold on to for solace.

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  8. This is so poignant. It ia almost sixteen years since my brother left us so suddenly. He missed out on so much of Life, but we try to remember him with joy. The past few years have been so full of losses, how many mustard seeds can one collect in a lifetime?

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