Beyond Death
“Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life.” ~Albert Einstein
This poignant quote by Albert Einstein best describes the state of my mind as I was mourning the loss of my dear father. I could feel his presence in the aura of the moment when I got up to speak during the condolence meeting in Mumbai. I realized at that moment that even when he was alive it wasn’t his physical presence but it was his ideals, his passion, his determination, and his optimism that brought me close to him. He lived in my imagination more than he did within the physical proximity of the home we shared.
As I stepped up to the microphone and looked at the audience, there was a brief moment of silence. That moment made me aware that both Nana and Aai were now united in the memory of the people who shared their journey. I realized that it was worthless to lament over the loss of the physical presence of my parents since their spirit and ideals would be firmly entrenched in my heart for years to come. It was obvious from the large gathering that by being honest to their path during their lifetime they had inspired ample numbers of people. By continuing on a path they shared with my parents, these individuals, to me, represented the spirit of Nana and Aai. My parents’ presence will never fade away. It will survive in the work of people like Ashok Saswadkar, Surekha Dalvi, Medha Patkar and many others who have dedicated their lives to pursue the dream of a better future for the less privileged.
Mignon McLaughlin in The Neurotic’s Notebook (1960) wrote, “The death of someone we know always reminds us that we are still alive — perhaps for some purpose which we ought to re-examine.” Nana’s passing away made me realize that the true asset I inherited from Aai and Nana was their zest to work for the upliftment of the downtrodden and underprivileged. I realized that Nana inspired in me the skill to empathize with other people, especially with those who are less privileged than I am. From him, I learned to notice the tears in people’s eyes. I realized that my mother taught me to stand up for justice. She taught me to fight for my own rights and for the rights of people who could not fight for themselves. From Nana I learned the need to maintain balance; from mother, I learned that while it is natural to be angry, it is important to be able to direct anger into positive and constructive actions. All along they both encouraged in me the appreciation for beauty — in art, in nature, and in people.
I remember many events that have left an indelible mark in my mind. I was inspired by the courage they demonstrated while facing adverse situations. I was very afraid at times, especially after the murder of the Communist leader, Krishna Desai, when my father was identified as the next target. This did not bother him and he went about doing his everyday activities without fear of death. I was also proud of my mother when she went around performing her duties as a municipal councilor despite threats by Shiv Sainiks. I have vivid memories of driving around with her in Mumbai during the riots engineered by Shiv Sainiks in the late 60’s. I remember carrying clothes for those affected by the communal riots in Bhiwandi. I also recall the day after Mrs. Gandhi’s brutal murder when Nana and I were traveling from Mumbai to Delhi on Rajdhani Express. The train was stopped at Faridabad and Tughalakabad stations and hysterical crowds were forcing entry into the train and pulling out Sikhs and lynching them in front of everyone (including police). I remember my father getting down from the train and making an appeal to the police to control the mobs. Subsequently, I also accompanied them to the settlements of Trilokpuri in Delhi to assuage the feelings of Sikh communities that were victims of mass brutalities. Through all these experiences I learned not to be afraid. I learned a lot from their life and more from my father’s death.
On the morning of November 12th, the doctor told me that Nana would pass away by the evening because the oxygen in his body had begun to deplete rapidly. I shared this news with friends and family. As I sat next to him for the rest of the day, the oxygen-indicator machine kept beeping, making us aware of his ultimate departure. While we held our breath and held back our tears, Nana maintained his calm and devoted his final moments enjoying the game of cricket that was being telecast. He also asked me to play the Marathi Natya Sangeet in the background. He was very aware of the fact that this was the final leg of his journey. Until the very last moment, he maintained his calm and embraced death without any remorse. His death was a beautiful moment to watch, in the words of Kahlil Gibran (the Prophet):
“For what is it to die, But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?”
Nana’s moment of departure definitely was a moment he was prepared for and he prepared others for. He believed in Leonardo da Vinci’s description of death:
“As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well used brings happy death.”
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I wrote this article in 2005, soon after my father’s death. My mother passed away in 2001. My father’s death triggered in me an impulse and an inspiration to start to share a constructive and harmonious view of the world and of the future. That impulse lives in me to date. It motivates me to use my creative talent to help people have hope even amidst the most hopeless situations (April 20th, 2020).
