Death exercisess a ritualistic procedure in culture. In the Christian and Islamic religions, the dead are buried, sometimes with extra fanfare. Items of interest for the dead are buried along with the body. The assumption is that the dead person's "soul" might visit the body. It possibly never does. The thieves are known to break open the tombs to steal the buried objects. Funerary burial is an old tradition. We track people's habitat and gauge the technological skills through the funerary excavations. When burial is not a custom, it can get difficult to reconstitute the past. In Hindu culture, the dead is cremated. Because of tropical climate the dead body begins to disintegrate quickly. The cremation is scheduled as early as preparations can be done. My father's family in Puri believed in special rituals. Puri is treated by the believers as the abode of liberation. Cremation at the sea shore is given the extra sanctity of complete liberation. "liberation" in Hindu faith has the connotation of escaping the penance of rebirth. The assumption is that the life on earth is a punishment for any trespassing one did in a previous life. "Liberation" releases the person from the shackles of the rebirth. According to some, Sri Jagannatha is a passport to liberation. People who are not born in Puri or who could not get to be cremated at the sea shore in Puri require their family members to do an additional task of immersing the ashes in the Ganges at a location of interest. Among many locations, the confluence of three rivers in Allahabad is considered auspicious. The three rivers are the Ganges, the Jamuna and the underground stream Saraswati. Such confluence has mythological significance and is accepted as holy in Hindu tradition. The believers are then supposed to go to another location called Gaya two hundred miles east. By doing sacrificial offerings at Gaya, the family members can release the dead from any known or unknown bondage the person may have on earth. The belief comes from the old stories of Ramayana. The Buddha had gone to Gaya to meditate in search for liberation in life.
My father's views were at odds with the rituals. He hardly worshiped at a Temple. It was only different when his father passed away. He did perform the twelve day cleansing ritual dutifully. The rituals on my father's death were determined by his younger brother since I could not reach in time. For some reason they had kept his ashes in an urn in order that the ashes may be immersed in the Ganges as a "holy" disposal.. My younger brother who cremated my father had the intention of carrying the urn to its destination. Time passed, he got ill, eventually passed away. My mother had also passed away. Her ashes were in a separate urn buried by the side of my father's urn.
Next to me is my sister Aparajita, who is a physician. She had requested me if I could follow up on the task of taking the ashes to the Ganges. I had assumed the task. The initial work was to go to Cuttack residence and collect the urns there. The urns are buried under the ground to protect them from the roaming animals. One had to dig up and extricate them. My host Aparimita offered her car and also offered company. We called our sister-in-law to go along with us for assistance.
On the way we stopped by the office of Sri Sudarsan who was helping to convene a literary meeting the next day. This day was also celebrating the ritual of the Car Festival in Puri. Sri Sudarsan had written a satirical article on the mismanagement by the Temple priests. The article was well liked by the local public. He was getting calls to compliment him on his writing. We spent some time with him to discuss the logistics for the next day. Then we proceeded forward.
The location where the urn was buried was made into a small concrete structure that looked like a shrine. We had to break the bricks to get to the urn. I was told that the person carrying the urn must only move towards its immersion. We had to restore it back to pick up on my way to the train in a couple of days. At the side of my parents' urns, there was a third shrine containing the urn of my younger brother. I was told that we do not touch it for a year. There have been various theories regarding what happens to life after death. The dominant among them is that the psychic part of the life hangs around the house at least for a year.
I had requested my sister to negotiate with the resident brother if he would vacate some of the renters to create some space for my stay. Since my stay was temporary he did not seem to be interested in the conversation. I had felt like a homeless person in the town of my upbringing after my mother passed away. She protected my study and my bed until her end. I lost these privileges along with her. I thought about many others in the world who might have the similar situation of being displaced out of their small rightful privileges.
We left for our maternal uncle's house. My mother had six brothers. She was second and was like a guardian to the younger ones. Four brothers and a younger sister to her have passed away. The youngest uncle lost his wife to disease not too long ago. The other uncle never married. He is a lawyer and is an excellent orator. These two uncles and various widow aunts live together. Few of the children live in town and visit occasionally. They had a large joint family that had disintegrated under the pressure of modernity.
I love my uncles. We have a great relationship. I was staying with them when I was a school-going kid. I was taught by all of them at various times. They had been supportive of me in my times of need. An uncle is a great institution in the world. In a Hindu family, the maternal uncle has a ritualistic role in a person's life. In my case, my uncles were my friends, guides and protectors.
We sat together and had tea. Children sang a few songs that they had been learning. I thought about my childhood when we would sing prayers together. The songs that the children sang were formal music learned through a teacher. I complimented them though I would have liked to hear our traditional prayers. Another boy was learning violin and he played a tune. They also sang something together as a chorus.
I thought about my mother's father. A tall handsome man, he was a man of kindness and compassion. Like my paternal grandfather, my maternal grandfather was also a Minister to a local King. The kingdom was merged to the Indian Union after independence. He lost everything through not so clever estate planning. My grandmother had a mental setback and passed away early. The grandfather maintained his composure. He came from a clan of people who brought Sanskrit to Orissa. He was a support to my mother and to me. From his conduct I can relate that love does not need resources. Goodness in man is his security in the world!
