An apology

Don’t know what makes me write this, when I strongly feel like leaving the idea right now. There’s a feeling within which says I am wrong this time, wrong to put something like this in words ,which should have stayed inside….am desperately fighting within when I pen this down, and am not sure when I’ll leave the script and would let it go incomplete….there is something which makes me feel like a criminal within….


Today I needed to accompany someone to a condolence because a driver was needed and I was the option available. Though I didn’t like the idea, I felt myself very much helpless at such occasions, may be it was my inability to accept the realities the world gave when someone who was yours, someone whom you kept close left someday with non hopes of ever returning back…..and even when “the person” wasn’t close the people whom the dead left made you feel helpless...today, the deceased wasn’t someone I was connected to, she was just a distant relative. So, I tried negotiating if I could just be a driver and wait outside while she completed the societal norms, but my attempts were a total failure…
Went there, while we were struggling to find the house, going back and forth ,zig zag in the lanes ..We could hear something loud, and it made us identify the place we were supposing to!

At the entrance on left I could see a table with a white sheet on it and some red boxes piled on top of each other, right side had another similar table this time with some glasses on it and a big kit, which I read BISLERI…
Suddenly someone pushed me, as I stood up again the person apologized and hurried within with a plastic bag, which had coke,pepsi,mirinda bottles in it….as these were not my concern, I went to the place I was destined for.

I took off my sleepers as everyone did and found a space. Though I didn’t know what should be my behavior, I was ascertained there would be nothing wrong in keeping mum. I sat down, in between people. Right in front there was a stage with a red carpet and three people on it. In the middle sat a female in a white kurtee with minimum makeup(apt for the occasion with a laptop in front. person on left was on a tabla and the right one held a synthesizer …probably this was the orchestra for the evening. The female sung two bhajans for the rested soul, then she recited “gayatri mantras”, which hold special significance in our hindu culture…as I was engrossed in it…she looked for a signal to a man again in white kurtee(the son of the deceased),this time the kurtee had kashmiree work on it, and he signaled her to sing something more….she continued..
Just next to me was a young boy probably 17 yr old, who was the grandchild of the dead soul….in a chicken kurta and jeans he held his handicam in hand, and was trying to shoot the orchestras, the photo frame of her grandmother, which was nicely decorated with red roses around….

a couple beside me, were in there finest clothes, certainly in whites...the female wore diamond sets apt with the white bordered zarii kurtee...probably gold didn’t went with it!

As my eyes moved around the white tent I sat there was something suffocating about the atmosphere, when suddenly the mike was taken up my a man who wore yellow for a change ,I expected some real “uthavnaa” rituals from him. but the mike was handed over to someone who talked nice things about the soul as if his speech was preplanned, and requested everyone present not to leave without taking the Prasad!

While mineral water was continually being served, the red boxes (conating laddus{the actual ritual }+ some baked biscuits,{ may be the onset of the culture we were heading to})were served which had a label of one the 3 stars in the city.
As I wanted to move out quickly, someone at the gate handed over to me a card, the card read…
.”My mom was a great female,
She loved….

……………………………..
I thank you all for coming here and making an effort to be little my sorrow”.


I don’t know if my acceptability to the life’s biter truth increased over the loss. But certainly if this was the society, which was worse then the TV daily soaps …...where children called an orchestra as a condolence, they made sure of the best fabrics even in such a situation.
At the second day of death, they wanted to wrap up things because “chautha “ and “terahvi” which hold some significance demanded time and the children were busy.
Then certainly I feel am better off not knowing the norms of such a society, and if this is one of the kind, I am a rebel.
I apologize to the soul, if anything by me has hurt her!