A departure with a difference

THE departure of a dear one is usually an occasion suffused with anguish and gloom. The scene of one parting from the world that I witnessed recently was, however, quite different. Sombre it was, undoubtedly, but the experience was novel and, for many observers, elevating.

Our scriptures extol the virtue of forbearance and surrender to the Lord’s will. The holy book of the Sikhs, the Guru Granth Sahib, enjoins the Guru’s own submission in a short phrase, “Tera bhana meetha laage.” Whatever is your divine will is sweet and dear to me. The Gita, which Hindus revere, reassures that for an individual, death is merely a transition. The soul is indestructible; it merely changes its garb, which is the shape of the human body that it inhabits, to dwell in another form. This is the concept of transmigration of the soul. American poet HW Longfellow echoes the Christian belief ingrained in the Bible, “Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.”

The lines imply that after the human body perishes, the eternal soul will resurrect itself. For Greek philosopher Plato, the soul is immortal, and the body a temporary vessel, from which the soul returns to a higher realm.

At the cremation that I witnessed in Punjab, many dwellers of the residential colony, including close relatives of the deceased, were present. So strong was their collective fortitude that there was no public display of emotions; no wailing or weeping on the shoulders of the near and dear. It was a practical demonstration of their faith.

The departed one had pledged that her eyes be donated after her passing. The wish had been duly carried out. Possibly, pride and satisfaction that the parting individual had helped restore the eyesight of a deserving person had led to a sublimation of the inevitable grief to a positive acceptance of fate.

The colony has adopted the practice of not immersing the ashes from a funeral pyre into a water body. Relatives deposit the ashes in a specially designed container to support a sapling. All saplings are systematically nurtured towards maturity. The arrangement prevents water pollution and delivers the remains to Mother Earth. The donation is kept anonymous as the location of every plant is unmarked. The reason: it is expected that not publicising the unique donation would foster humility among the loving survivors.

Could it be that such an environmental embrace at the time of bidding the final farewell instils courage in the loved ones?