Death

Once upon a time, Death was an expected and planned for event. Our ancients said, that preparing for death is a part and parcel of life’s duties and prepare they did, by retiring into lives of meditation. Did she even think she would die that fateful day? She did not. But looking down from above, seeing the life go by, her empty slot gaping raw, she could not think. What would happen to her children? Her pet parrot and the cat? One moment, there she was leaning over the parapet wall of the apartment building where they lived, to try grab a shirt that had escaped the confining clip to the washing line… and the next, here she was.

Disoriented, confused, she floated above for a few moments, to see her body where it lay. She looked peaceful, asleep but in an odd position, the arms twisted beneath the body. Peaceful! – a smile crossed briefly as she wondered what ‘peace’ meant. Then, the crowd came down, then the family, her husband… It was a heart-wrenching scene, and as she wept herself, she wondered how she could break free.

Breaking free had not been an option in life. How could it be in death? Her sobs subsiding, she weighed her options. Should she go down below and check out what was happening? Narrowing her eyes against the glare of the sun, she focussed – ah! Her parents!

She swallowed as she imagined their grief. She lowered herself to get closer to the scene and saw husband and daughter, grief-stricken. This was not how she had wanted to go. So much of unfinished business. She mulled over her situation sitting on the parapet.

Fifteen days later, the daughter in the apartment below sat writing out her homework. She had resumed school and had a lot to catch up with. The daughter was hungry, and automatically called out for, out of sheer force of habit, “Amma! I am…” Her voice trailed away.

But suddenly, she sat up, her eyes glancing about as if to seek someone. A soft breath on her cheek. A sudden touch on her hair. And the smell of mother.