Grief like joy is a personal thing. We grieve for what is not, what is no more and what was once there, ours. Life goes on, they say but what is it that diminishes us, sometimes half-kills us and creates an unfathomable vacuum, a void hard to understand, emptiness indescribable? An absence of the person makes all the difference- when the person is Ma whose very existence gave our beings a lot of meaning. But now what? All the words of wisdom, the sharing of others’ sorrows, the silent consolations, the warm hugs or feel of friendly togetherness, the hordes of people visiting to offer condolence or support enable us register the hard truth but it’s being back to routine which offers all challenges in acceptance of the painful reality of the absence of mother.
She was the centre of our universe and its hard indeed to overcome the feel of falling apart of our small world. But what an enriching feeling to have been mothered by her-the most beautiful woman of our world who was indeed epitome of dignity, grace, self respect, hospitality, warmth of goodwill and courage of conviction besides her ever increasing love for literature and craving for spiritual upliftment and constant endeavoring to be free of all aaskati and moh.
She touched the lives of all those who happened to meet her though even once with her affection, humility and never failing hospitality even if it meant bringing on her own a glass of water to offer to the visiting person or serving homemade delicacies. I vividly remember the tradition of serving something meetha as a must even during the times when food for children was scarce.
Never did we see her with unkempt hair or crippled suit nor without a hanky or a watch- never acting lazy or asking for a glass of water- always hadd houle and ready to move to fetch salt or pepper; ever ready to go to kitchen to cook garam garam chapatti-her exclusive way of showering laad.
In March this year when she was to undergo angiography and we all were anxious, keeping our fingers crossed. In an effort to ease out the atmosphere we all-Ma, Archana, Rashmi and myself started singing together: tu hi raam hai, tu rahim hai, tu karim, Krsna khuda hua/ tu hi waahe guru, tu yeeshu maseeh har naam mein tu rama hua...and on seeing tears trickling down her cheeks I lightly hugged her and asked why she was crying and she said she was praying that May God give strength to the Japanese to stand on their own again!! An hour after that the test was conducted without bringing rays of hope but she was so calm and told how she felt Krsna all around protecting, caressing her and that there was nothing to worry at all.
At dot five daily she would lit up the Jot and sit for Jap/ dhyan. Though a devout sanatani, she loved to perform yagna, had read all Upnishdas, Vedas, Puranas and hordes of books by Swami Ramkrsihna Paramhans, Yogananda, Vivekanand, Avdheshanandji, her own Guru Swami Gianandji. One thing was quite pertinent that she was unfazed by the diversity of opinions and nothing deterred her from her faith in her isht. That feel of her having risen above symbolized her gradual heading towards total samarpan before the Supreme Being. She was prepared, we feel now and she was also a sankalp-siddha. Everything fell in place just the way she wanted when time for her to leave the world came- self-dependent, healthy, walking, working, in her home, at peace.
The grace and dignity she personified all her life was perhaps to enable us imbibe these traits in grief of her absence. Life goes on but it can never be the same again.
There is an answer, some day we will know
You will ask her, why she had to go
You will ask her, why she had to go
We live and die, we laugh and we cry
You must take away the pain
Before you can begin to live again
So let it start, let it start
Let the tears come rolling from your heart
And when you need a lightIn the lonely night
And when you need a lightIn the lonely night
Carry me like a fire in your heart
(Chris de Burgh_Carry Me Like A Fire In Your Heart)
