Visiting My Dad......

It was a hot and stuffy afternoon. I had started another routine day, and got ready to get to work. All of a sudden, I felt myself very lonely without my father’s physical presence. I felt like telling him about all the problems I was facing since he had left this world to reunite with his Creator. Diverting from my usual course, I turned my car towards the last resting place (graveyard to many) where my father’s body was resting till eternity.

I parked my car near the fence. It is a narrow road dividing two graveyards. No doubt, going to the graveyard is never a happy experience, but seeing the attitude of the people who had started using the road – leading to our last resting places – as a dumping ground of their worldly filth, it gave me a disgusting feeling of the world I am living in for a very short span in comparison to what I have to live after this mundane existence. Can’t we be caring enough to the souls we loved once! Trust me! Not all of them are given duties after they had tasted death. They are still serving us. But probably we want to make it certain that they should not come to this world again. To materialize this, we use their supposed passage as a dumping ground. The civic institutes seemed to have connived with the people as the former did not bother to clear the road, besides letting the rainwater get stagnant.

However, it bothered me little on that day as I could clearly see all the graves from outside. And I preferred to move on instead of digressing myself into another worldly trap, though an ugly one even in seemingly appearance.

Huge gate of black rusty metal bars was wide open and a spacious cemetery was in front of me. This compound called ‘janazgah’ had no signs of human activity. It seemed, today, none of the souls bade farewell to his dear ones. This city of silence is heavily populated during last few years. This is for sure that continuous rise in prices of land has not affected this area only.

I had to pass many graves to reach the one I belong to. It was my father’s, neighbored by my uncle, who had arrived here 30 days prior to my father had made his way supported by his once-upon-a-time friends, accompanied by his only son.

Their mother, my Dadi Maa, was there for burial receptions – she was settled there and had to wait for seven months to make both of her sons her eternal neighbors.

Hundreds of graves and equal number of different deaths! Everyone died in a different way. Everyone had a different reason to die. Despite being so common, death is so diverse in actuality. I was thinking it must be very painful when the soul leaves the body. For worldly people, who want to be in the world and love this mundane ‘beauty’ (read ugliness), it is more painful, or may be the same process is chalked out, who always treat this life as a temporary stay.
But they are certainly happy at leaving this life behind and meeting their Creator with whom they had promised ones that they would be with Him one-day. That day is the day of celebration!

Few of the graves were indicating that they have been recently visited. Nostril-scratching aroma of slowly burning fragrance sticks (agarbattees) was absorbing in my reluctant but heavy breathes. Wildly drifting smoke, petals of sadly spread roses and deadly silence were facilitating the wholesomeness of this visual effect of lamentation and sorrow.

Looking at the grave of my father is always an experience that overtakes me emotionally. It has become almost impossible for me to hold back my tears, which have dried, to the extent of not flowing down on my cheeks, which must have patted once by him. Moister has become a challenge for my eyes to hold.

Here the man lies, whose presence never allowed me to raise my voice, who taught me the things I always tried to find from books after his demise, but I failed. He always asked me to fight with the urges; he helped me linking myself with the power called ‘Faith’.

A being, who was always a big support in my distress. I am standing in front of his grave and I wanted to talk to him. Without ever bothering whether or not will he respond? I told him about the troubles I am facing without him. I admitted that I miss him in this phase of life despite his authoritative presence. I told him that he should have been around during this phase of despondency. He is quiet. I told him that in terms of finances, I am a happy man but I am emotionally hollow without his presence but he is quiet.

I don’t know whether he would say something or not but visiting him and talking to him has become such a routine that seems like an important course of my life.

(May his soul rest in peace. Amen!)