What if you could bring back to life
a loved one in small portions?
Would you pick a nose hair
or a toenail or saliva stains
on a glass of chai?
Or would you need something
more wholesome to remember them by?
Many people die, without leaving a trace that they once lived and loved. Even when they do, there is a chance that the world will remember them for the wrong reasons. Like everyone else, I know very little about death.
And like so many of you, I have lost friends, family members and colleagues to diseases, accidents and stupidity. Grandparents to old age. Parrots to a parliament of crows; dogs to reckless car drivers.
I have often wondered though of it were because someone had lost his/her life or since I had lost someone from mine.
A few years ago, while I was stuck at a traffic signal in a noisy part of my city, I saw two old men, clad in graying dhotis, begging for alms. It is a common sight to see people do that in India. However begging is no longer a by-product of nationwide disparities in income. It is an organized racket run by gangsters and businessmen. A cold reminder that unscrupulous NGOs aren’t the only ones milking the Indian poverty brigade for loose change.
One of the old men, taller than the other, seemed upset. He wore a visible scowl on his face. But he looked like he was in charge. He held the other by his hand and took him around, appealing to people’s mercies. His eyes shot daggers whenever they walked away from vehicles.
His companion looked broken. As though he had waved the white flag at the world a long time ago. Before they could approach me, the signal turned green. And I drove away.
I wondered what death might have meant to them. Whether their lives had already given them so much joy and strength that they could easily fight through these bad times. Or if they were merely biding their time, having been crushed by abandonment, until their bodies give up too.
For some reason, they stayed in my head for a long time. At least a few years had gone by, but still I think about them whenever I see old people begging in the streets.
A few months ago, I saw them in the same part of my city. They were trying to cross a busy road. They were dressed a little better, as the rays of the matinee sun bounced off their pale-white dhotis. The tall man looked stoic this time. And the other fellow had a huge smile on his face.
I convinced myself then that their lives were better than ever; that they neither had the reason nor the time to worry about death. Or how are they might be remembered by.
I might have been kidding myself, but don’t we all as far as death is concerned?
This scene is from an utterly brilliant Tamil film called Veedu (House). It was directed by the late Balu Mahendra and featured Chokkalinga Bhagavathar, an unbelievable actor, as its protagonist. It is stunning because of how impeccably simple its treatment of death is. The script, the co-stars and the music are spell-binding too.
(Photographs – Chennai)
Just their love…
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I wouldn’t choose any! 😞
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what if hygiene seeps green milk into envious chai in large proportions?
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then we enter into the realm of euphoric shuddering. no sugar, of course.
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What if there was a spoon though ?
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laughing so hard at this comment, what an earth?
“But I wonder if it were because someone had lost their life or since I had lost someone from mine.” – well said, beautiful
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The title of this poem is so witty!
I guess I would like a small (hygenic!) memento like maybe a brooch, a watch…
And the accompanying photographs are beautiful and so expressive!
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i can imagine the attachment one would have with a watch. it sounds lovely. but a scene from pulp fiction makes it impossible to not giggle. i feel apologetic.
and merci a lot!
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I have always thought about death. And I have always concluded that I would want to see them once a year. It would be painful. Waiting for an entire year to see or talk to them. Yet it would be worth the wait & the pain.
But then I think, death wouldn’t be so dreadful, the dead wouldn’t be so valuable if they would return and tell us what happens after life. Right?
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That is as accurate as anything else I have heard, comrade. i am sure if there is a way of dealing with death without letting go, matter of fact i am not sure if life itself would be manageable without the ability to let go of.
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I really like the poem with which you started the post. Thank you very much for stopping by my blog and liking my recent post. It’s greatly appreciated.
Have a good day.
Kind Regards,
-Naima
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Likewise, friend. Thank you!
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I was going to suggest the alternate collective noun ‘murder of crows’, but on reflection parliaments probably kill far more people (and birds) than murderers do.
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True that comrade, parliaments are certainly louder and more annoying as well. I had first come across ‘murder of crows’ while in a VCD rental store, thanks to a hilariously bad thriller movie that had it as a title.
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It’s like you witnessed some sort of metaphysical atonement beneath the surface of camaraderie. I really, really love how you connect to your sights and sites. You make me envious of the magic, but you deliver the moment so well that I’m just happy for your experience (usually happy ha). Thank you for sharing your life, and your amazing talents.
Once again, a perfect poem to set it all off. Take care 🙂
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Awww man, if we were in the Run DMC, we’d both be funkmaster flex. Giggles. Thanks brother again for your kind praises!
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I have held on to letters and notes….reading them gives me a fuzzy warm feeling ……that’s all I need till I get to the other side !
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“have love, will travel” like The Sonics once sang!
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They will stay in MY head now. Thank you.
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I am so glad you feel that way ❤
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Nice thoughts… Aptly put.. Can imagine the scene of two men asking for alms..
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Thank you.
Unbelievably so, I saw them again two days ago at a nearby traffic signal!
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Let’s talk about life sometime (scaling the intensity of emotion in the article conveying Death, I can only imagine how beautifully you’ll recount LIFE)
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I try to do that at times but it keeps running into brick walls hehe thank you so much Kriti, you say such nice things.
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I’ve been reflecting and posting about death since recently learning of a loved one passing on. I am at peace with death and accept it as part of the cycle of life, but it touches on so many areas, it always gives me pause and the opportunity to take stock and really reflect on life and my inner emotional world.
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I look forward to reading your musings about it. And i agree about death being cyclical and affecting, it’s the business of life I can’t seem to figure out!
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For me Death is a only a part of life,since life continues its journey in another form.That is the way of life. Your article is brutally true. Though we think our life is eternal ( when we see obituary photos in news paper) and go on doing our mundane activities, thinking that our end is going to be far away. Thanks for your wonderful thoughts about death.
Your article also reminded me of the poetic expressions of ‘Death is nothing at all’ by Canon Henry Scott-Holland
Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we are still
Call me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was
Let it be spoken without effort
Without the ghost of a shadow in it
Life means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolute unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you for an interval
Somewhere very near
Just around the corner
All is well.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost
One brief moment and all will be as it was before
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918, Canon of St Paul’s Cathedral
‘The King of Terrors’, a sermon on death delivered in St Paul’s Cathedral on Whitsunday 1910, while the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster:
published in Facts of the Faith, 1919
THIS IS THE MOST VISITED PAGE ON http://WWW.POETICEXPRESSIONS.CO.UK
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To die without telling the world the qay they looked towards it, is like a book written with all love and might but never was taken out to get published! Eventually people may not come to know bout it and the pleasure of sharing views remains incomplete.
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Beautifully said, thank you for this ❤
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😊
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