Sunday, January 9, 2011

When the Human Engine ceases to exist

Today my grandmother passed away. She was 94.
I was having an unusually rough day at work. Things stretched to 1AM. I was almost half asleep in the office car as it sped past a foggy, neon yellow deserted Salt Lake. The driver woke me up. I trudged upstairs. It was 1:30 AM. Dad was awake. 'Your grandmom is having breathing problems', he whispered.
Thakma stayed with Boro Jethu in Barrackpore. Choto kaka had taken her to a hospital. She was in real bad shape. But this wasnt new to me. Almost every winter she has had breathing problems. She was after all in her 90s. Even last year she had similar problems but she just didnt give up. I was quite sure she would make it this year too. I was just so used to seeing Thakma around.
I nodded at my Dad, called Choto Kaka and then went straight to sleep. At around 5:30AM Dad woke me up. He did that quietly, almost tenderly. There was no grimace on his face. In fact I was grimacing with the sudden break in my sleep. He was sitting beside me.'Your Thakma passed away around 3 hours back', he said. I knew we had to leave for Barrackpore right then. My eyes were too heavy with sleep to actually make sense of what really happened. As the cold seeped in through my T-shirt, I realized that my Dad had just lost his mother. It seemed like an absolute impossibility to me. But there he was going through it right then. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, got dressed and left with Dad for Barrackpore.
I could not feel his loss. I didnt want to. I will never want to. My Thakma will always be remembered and revered. May she find solace from the unending cycle of time.

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