This is a fact,
isn’t it? At least for a very large majority of people populating this planet.
One may go into the philosophical discussions about how this life is merely a
stopover in the larger cosmic scheme of things, there is life after death,
reincarnation, an afterlife, et al. But that is kind of confined within the
confines of religious or meditation practice. The moment the practice is over,
the gloves are off, and we go about our daily routine, pushing DEATH far away
from our conscious mind, just to remember it as something that is uniquely
unpleasant, and highly avoidable. Yet, we fail to remember that death is about
the only thing that is constant in our lives. Yet, we live virtually every
waking moment of our lives, trying to avoid death, trying to at least postpone it
into the distant and unknown future. It is not something that we will welcome,
far from it. Death is something that happens to ‘other’ people. Ours is still a
long way away, and we will push it farther away, so help us God.
I personally have
a major problem with this sham of trying to deny or at least postpone death. I
believe in the afterlife, in reincarnation, believe that we are but here on
Earth for a miniscule bit of time in the spectrum of our existence over
lifetimes. Three countless eons, some philosophy describes this timeframe as.
And that is a very long time to be worried about death in a single lifetime.
There is a purpose to our existence, and whether in this lifetime or the next
or the one after that, we are destined to fulfil it. We may not realise it in
the here and now, but fulfil it we will.
Often we mistake
our destiny to be the here and now. Our family, children, the pet dog,
pollution, the hole in the ozone layer, the problem of marine debris or the
melting of the polar ice caps. For many it is much more mundane and this
majority lives on day after day, month after month, year after year, completely
oblivious of their purpose in life. They wake up the morning, go to work, come
back home, eat, sleep and repeat the cycle for the rest of their lives. Every
little niggle warrants a visit to the doctor to ensure that no niggle turns
into a debilitating disease. Chemists and doctors are raking it in and we are
happy enough to fill their coffers. As are the donation boxes in sundry places
of worship. “God, keep me and my family healthy” is a common enough refrain.
And really there is nothing wrong in that, as long as they get their head out
of the sand and take life as a continuum, one day to be ended with that last
breath. And that is something that we are not willing to talk about or accept.
I am yet to meet too many people who will have a healthy dinner table conversation
about death and how to prepare for it ... for the person who will die and for
the people around him who form part of his or her family, friends and
acquaintances. Death almost always comes as a shock. Whether it is an untimely
one for someone who is young or for the elderly who have been relegated to bed
for years.
We humans are an
extremely selfish bunch of people. We will do everything in our power to keep a
person alive. And here I am talking largely about patients who are terminally
ill. People who have no hope of remission. They have been bed ridden for a very
long time, with no hope of recovery, yet we spend all our time, money and
resources to keep that breath going, however faint and laboured. Many have sold
their house and property on a lost cause. Some unfortunately commit suicide,
unable to bear the suffering of a loved one. Why can’t we let a person move on
in peace?
When my father was
diagnosed with cancer, in his last days he proclaimed that he would like to go “pure”,
as he termed it. He refused to take anything through his mouth, no food, no
water, no medicines. He agreed to be injected with drugs or fed intravenously.
And I suspect that too was to keep a semblance of respect for his family who
did not quite understand his philosophy. And a couple of weeks later, he was
gone. The chemo was not doing anything and I for one, was against administering
the last dose. That did him in and he lost whatever semblance of sanity that
remained. He was in pain for a few days before he finally found peace.
Why can’t we learn
to let go in peace? Why do we want to make the victim suffer because we want to
see him or her alive for just a few more days or weeks or months? Why can’t the
last few hours on Earth be a time for contemplation, for reveries, to
recollect, remember and savour the memories of a live well lived?
Anyway, I am
digressing and that s not exactly what this article is all about. This article
is about the acceptance of death as a reality. It is about accepting death as a
part of our very existence. It is about embracing death as a friend and not
fearing him (or her) as the Devil incarnate, here to take away our pleasure.
Am I being
nihilistic? To many it may appear so, but that is not at all my intention.
There is no light without darkness, no day without night, no joy without
sorrow, no love without hate. Similarly there is no life without death. And
that is the truth, however much we may wish to bury our heads in the sands
refusing to believe it. OK, I will go farther and say that many of us believe
in death, but try and not tempt it by talking about it too much. What we do is
to everything in our power to ensure that s/he does not come knocking on our
door.
I do not have any
research or statistics to substantiate what I am saying, and therefore will
have to rely on my personal experiences. I believe I am an intuitive person and
have the basic intelligence to read between the lines, to see things which
might not be very apparent, question things, try and find my own answers when
the ones I get do not satisfy me. Allow me the indulgence of ranting on about
this scary dude called Death.
I read a study
somewhere that the majority of passengers on a flight think about crashing when
the aircraft starts its take off run. I know I have, and if the study is to be
believed, so have a lot of others. It is the fear of the unknown, of being up
above the world at 30,000 feet, a sheer drop to earth in case something goes
wrong. Once airborne the fear diminishes, it is when on the ground that it is
at its peak. “What if the aircraft does not take off and goes off the runway,
crashing and killing us?” This has got nothing to do with the experience of the
pilot of the crew, it is a biological fear that creeps in, at least for a
majority of people. At least, so says the study.
I have this
feeling of death every time I board an interstate bus. But the fear is not so
much about whether the bus will go off a cliff or not. It has more to do with
the driver of the bus. I have no idea who or what the driver is. I do not know
when he got his license or how. I do not know his current state of mind. Has he
has a disagreement with his wife just before he left for work? Did his child’s
exam results disappoint him? Has he been reprimanded by his superiors? Is there
something bothering him? Has he been drinking? I have no answers to any of
these questions, and yet I happily and willingly board the bus, knowing that
come a few hours, I will be at my destination. Despite reading about buses
going down a cliff because the driver could not control his speed at the bend.
Lights out, lean back, go to sleep. Happiness. But I have always had this
sneaky fear in my head that I am actually putting my life in the hands of a
complete stranger. He could be the driver of a bus, a train or an airplane, my
thoughts remain, the doubts linger.
A couple of years
ago, I crossed a milestone in my life – I had seen a more than a thousand full
moons in my journey on this planet. I have had a good life, good and the bad. I
have had a major, near fatal accident. Recently, I had my knee replaced thanks
to the injury sustained in the accident. And I had the misfortune of suffering
from a vasovagal attack at home the other day. I, like most of us, live in the
midst of a loving family. All things considered, they freaked. And now I am
under tremendous pressure to try and deny the inevitable. Let me illustrate.
I love driving.
Any time, any where, any distance. Sometimes distances that most people think
is downright loony. I was employed for a while (sadly I might add) in an
organisation in Hyderabad. I was there for less than a year, yet I made a road
journey between Hyderabad and Delhi multiple times. Through the craters that
define the National Highways in Madhya Pradesh. Why, I even went off to Ladakh
from Hyderabad. If I get a choice between a train journey, an aircraft ride or
a car ride, I will choose a car ride any time of the week and twice on Sundays.
No questions asked.
But then, like I
said before, thanks to my advancing age, recent surgeries, the vasovagal attacks,
my folks are kind of freaking out. I am embarking on another long journey (from
their point of view) and they are insisting that I take a driver along and get
him to do most of the driving. Reminds me of my bus rides in interstate buses.
Am I prepared to trust my life with a driver or am I more confident of my own
driving skills? I have been on the road long enough and frequently enough to
know the pitfalls. I know when to stop (sometimes I push it an extra hour or so),
but I know my limits. Particularly given my current physical condition, which
according to the doctors is better than what it has been in the past decade!
Why should I even consider handing over the fortunes of my existence to someone
else? I am capable of taking care of myself and would rather have control than
abdicate that responsibility.
I know death can
be scary. Of course it is scary. But it doesn’t need to be. It is a reality and
will happen. To all of us. Someday. Why spend the rest of our lives trying to
avoid it? Take precautions, do not tempt fate, do not invite Death to come in for
a meal. At the same time, do not live a life of fear.
On one of my first
motorcycle journeys to Ladakh, a friend was clipping down the mountain road.
Finally when I caught up with him, I asked him to slow down. What he told me
stuck in my bonnet, even after a dozen years have passed by. He said, “Don’t
worry. I won’t fall. And if I fall, I won’t get up.” At the time I thought it
was a brash, stupid statement. But looking back, I agree with the sentiment.
Live a life well-lived. As Hunter S Thompson so aptly put it, “Life should not
be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and
well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming ‘Wow! What a Ride!’”
Given a choice I
would like to pass on to the afterlife with my boots on. I would hate to live a
life confined to either a bed or a wheel chair. I do not like pity, either from
me for others and lesser still, others for me. And when you are terminally ill,
you can see it in the eyes of everyone who comes to meet with you. The “How are
you?” is tinged with “My God, you are still alive.” The “Take care” and “Get
well soon” is steeped in hypocrisy and both the person saying it and the saying
who is the recipient recognise it for its hollowness. Everyone knows that
things will not get any better, only worse. The hobble to the bathroom with get
replaced by the bed pan and then with adult diapers.
Yet, we try and
make life comfortable. The house turns into a nursing home, it smells of sundry
medicines, the family becomes confined to the homestead, any thought of fun or
a party is frowned upon. And the person realises that it is just a question of
time. And time lingers on indefinitely for many. S/he realises the drain on
money and resources, yet can do nothing about it. Come to think of s/he also
wants to delay the inevitable. More often than not, it is the family members
who wish that s/he passed on to overcome the misery. If the patient is asked,
chances are that s/he would like to carry on for a few more years. And there is
always an excuse – watch the children grow up, watch them get married, see the
birth of grandchildren, the list is endless.
What a shame. A
life without dignity, yet for many, a life where the mental faculties remain
strong. I would not wish that life for anyone, least of all for me. No, Death
does not scare me. It will come when it has to. In the meanwhile, I refuse to
abdicate my responsibility and hand it over to destiny or fate or another
driver who is probably a lot worse than me on the road.
So dude, go
someplace else, and stop bothering me and my folks.
