Who died?
You get a call from a cousin, usually a female, to inform you about a sudden death of a person you seldom or ever cared about. Otherwise, it would not be a surprise, and you would not have to stop doing whatever you are doing to witness a funeral pyre.
When a loved one passeth away, it is saddening and mostly unsurprising.
When it is a distant relative, it is a study in human behavior, and an unwanted break from work that you hate but you would rather attend to than to see a dead man turned to ashes.
You could always not go. I am sure he won’t mind, certainly he can’t complain. But you do. The cousin who called; is expecting you.
The saddest person is perhaps the woman who has lost her husband. It is subjective though. Sometimes she is the happiest.
Sometimes you have a matriarch, she controls her family without doing any particular job, more like Noorjehan’s control over Shah Jahan. She is doubly sad because her subjects – children and grandchildren will revolt now, she has lost her means of power.
But this is not how our story plays out.
This Indian woman takes a sigh of relief when her man passed away.
She gets a say now in the affairs of the family. She is the de facto owner of the estate and holds the keys to the kingdom.
The shamshaam ghat is a hot place. And it is supposed to be. The Book of Revelation talks about the pool of fire. I wonder where they got the idea from.
I have been to my share of pyres and usually Shmashana have lots of trees about. It makes sense, as you cannot have air conditioning, It would make death a bit too pleasant to deal with. The discomfort can make you feel less, especially in North India with the humidity. Also ensures that only those who mean it, cry next to the deceased.
There is a place to sit, away from the pyre.
Women historically are not welcome around the burning body. It was just over 100 years ago; they were throwing women in with their smoldering spouses. Although it is not the case anymore but why take a chance so better to be safe than sorry.
Whilst the fire burns, and the man rapidly turns to ashes.
A date is decided to mourn the person. Someday convenient, mostly Sundays. And afternoons. Someplace convenient, mostly a Temple, in this case a Gurdwara.
This is also the moment some hymns are played, and a priest talks about inevitability of death, and time. As if a dead man atop a pile of wood burning down to ashes wasn’t a keen reminder.
The priest says that the man is going to heavens. The wife seems relieved to hear about that, she is satisfied with the seal of approval from the man with a protruding belly.
The Dead Man could be an asshole for all you know. Just because he is dead, doesn’t mean he was not an asshole.
The wife is going to heavens too. Do not know when. How soon. But definitely.
Today she seems joyous, I can feel her struggling to control the rush of power taking over her.
I remember my first funeral. It was my grandfather’s. My father was a respectable member of the community, perhaps the community did not know him enough, so a whole lot of people showed up.
They sat, solemnized, left in a quiet manner.
The men around me were restless. Middle aged rotund men fiddling away on their phones. I observed a man buy puts. Another discussed prices of a used car.
I wanted to be productive as well, but this was a fine chance at observing people, and one must never let it go. As a rule of thumb, whenever a beautiful walks into a room, observe the men about her. A whole lot of learning you shall do.
The daughter-in-law looked relieved and longingly looked at her mother-in-law. Everyone knew what she was thinking. She knew what everyone knew. These dynamics are not easy to handle but away from the heat, she managed to shed a tear.
The matriarch had overcome her grief. As expected, but rather soon. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet.
She had the keys to the kingdom. Her daughters in law had discovered newfound reverence for her. I could sense it and found it amusing but also sad, mostly funny though. It was a three-way competition now and now they will fall head over heels to serve her.
And she knew it and she was already enjoying it. Her life’s grand adventure had finally hit the start button. Her best days were ahead of her.
She was the lord of all creations.