Being human — and mortal

Mannat Chugh

I witnessed a cremation for the first time in my life only a few weeks ago. In all the 22 years of my life, I had never seen a cremation ground, let alone a cremation, and that too, of a family member. And, of course, the entire act of collecting the ashes and the remains, and disposing them of afterwards was also my first-time experience. Never had I had the ultimate reality of life rubbed in my face like this before. At that moment, I knew I couldn't be left behind with the kids and kept away from something like this anymore, like on the previous occasions, and that I had to grow up now. 

My grandfather, or Daddy, as we all used to call him, battled cancer gracefully and bravely for a long time, before finally giving in a few months ago. Given the fact that I was the closest to him and that it was the third death in the family in three years, it has not been an easy time. For a person like me, who is not comfortable talking about her emotions openly and would not like to be seen crying by anyone (but ends up crying in public anyway), it was mentally and physically taxing. I can only write about it.

He always said he saw a bright future lying ahead of me. What amused me the most was the way he used to convince me, every time he met me, to take up a decent, well-paying and peaceful job as a university professor. I couldn't help but laugh, given that it hadn't been my first career choice. Well, I guess I hadn't thought that he might not be around, if and when I make something of my future, whatever that might be, and it is hard to come to terms with that. 

As I sit and think of it, I am stunned at the absolute uncertainty, unpredictability and finiteness of life and everything around us. We go on about our lives, assuming everything will stay where it is. I wish it did. But, I just realised how mortal we humans are. 

When someone passes away, the whole process of rites and rituals takes a few days to complete. A host of people come together to mourn for the one, who goes on from being a living entity to a non-living portrait hung on the wall of the house in just a little amount of time. Once it is done, they retreat to their own lives and go about their business as usual. Well, I guess that's something you have to do. That's how it is. I have retreated to my cocoon, too. Although, it does seem strange and depressing that Daddy is just a portrait now. 

Well, this is obviously not the first time that I have come across the concept of human mortality, and it is not the first time someone has mentioned how shocking and unpleasant it all can be. But, I guess you never know how real this truth is unless you experience it on your own. I think I might have just grown up a little. 

Daddy often jokingly complained that I didn't call him enough. Perhaps, I should have called him more often.