How much pain does one feel when two severe cardiac attacks take place one after the another?
I couldn't find the answers on google.
But that is what my dadu must have felt before he left us for ever. He was on ventilation that at time and some one later said that if you are on ventilation you don't feel any pain at all. So, I'm sincerely hoping he didn't feel any pain and passed away in his deep unconsciousness.
This is a death note. A write-up on my grandfather whom we cremated at around 3pm yesterday. But I don't want to speak about the loss, I want to speak about what he was, his ideals and morals and the legacy that he lives behind.
He was 87. He was old, senile. But that's not what I remember about him. I remember his ever-smiling face, his ever-inquisitive mind, his never-give-up attitude and his benevolent activities. I remember my childhood, our childhood, the Jamaishasthi gatherings, the "mamar bari" trips..
We generally tend to associate our childhood with our grandparents. My dida (grandmother) used to tell me and Titir (my cousin) mythological stories when we were toddlers, while putting us to sleep. I still remember them, they were mostly about Madhusudan (Krishna), a sparrow husband and wife, and others . Her hair was predominantly grey, with a few black and fewer white strands. She always used to put Keo-Karpin hair oil and wore red-bordered beige sarees. She was ever soft-spoken; that she could ever raise her voice was beyond anyone's imagination. She was a petite woman, not too old, she never grew too old. When our exam results used to come out, and everyone would be discussing them, she would say that in her days, that is when she used to go to school, they did not care much about how much marks they got; they were just happy if they would qualify. They were six sisters named in rhymes. I had memorized them -Amita-Mamata, Maya-Chhyaya..
Lies are almost always good; imaginations are consoling. You could just imagine you had life figured out but then the monster called Truth comes along and upsets that whole castle of yours that you've built with lies, with imaginations, with hopes that you could have these moments forever. No matter how perfectly you live, life will outrun you. One day it will slap you and knock you out of your calculated track.
I couldn't find the answers on google.
But that is what my dadu must have felt before he left us for ever. He was on ventilation that at time and some one later said that if you are on ventilation you don't feel any pain at all. So, I'm sincerely hoping he didn't feel any pain and passed away in his deep unconsciousness.
This is a death note. A write-up on my grandfather whom we cremated at around 3pm yesterday. But I don't want to speak about the loss, I want to speak about what he was, his ideals and morals and the legacy that he lives behind.
He was 87. He was old, senile. But that's not what I remember about him. I remember his ever-smiling face, his ever-inquisitive mind, his never-give-up attitude and his benevolent activities. I remember my childhood, our childhood, the Jamaishasthi gatherings, the "mamar bari" trips..
We generally tend to associate our childhood with our grandparents. My dida (grandmother) used to tell me and Titir (my cousin) mythological stories when we were toddlers, while putting us to sleep. I still remember them, they were mostly about Madhusudan (Krishna), a sparrow husband and wife, and others . Her hair was predominantly grey, with a few black and fewer white strands. She always used to put Keo-Karpin hair oil and wore red-bordered beige sarees. She was ever soft-spoken; that she could ever raise her voice was beyond anyone's imagination. She was a petite woman, not too old, she never grew too old. When our exam results used to come out, and everyone would be discussing them, she would say that in her days, that is when she used to go to school, they did not care much about how much marks they got; they were just happy if they would qualify. They were six sisters named in rhymes. I had memorized them -Amita-Mamata, Maya-Chhyaya..
Lies are almost always good; imaginations are consoling. You could just imagine you had life figured out but then the monster called Truth comes along and upsets that whole castle of yours that you've built with lies, with imaginations, with hopes that you could have these moments forever. No matter how perfectly you live, life will outrun you. One day it will slap you and knock you out of your calculated track.
Funny how grief affects the rich and poor in the same way; sufferings make one humble, i have seen it happening with my ownself.
Talking about my grandfather, he was and still is a veteran. He was one of the forerunners in setting up the neighborhood, the place where he lived most of his life, after the devastating India-bangladesh division.
He is accredited with being one of the founders of the nearby school. Every now and then people used to come to him for advise, and time had rightly proved that his experience and foresightedness triumphed most of the times. This is what he was to the outside world.
To us, he was the ever-smiling, ever-confident, grandfather who commanded respect by the virtue of his behavior, mannerisms and demeanor. He was always inquisitive, asking us questions about what was being taught at school, and then in later years, what kind of work we have to do in our offices, in front of the computer. Surprisingly, a person of such stature was devoid of any ego. An immensely self-respecting individual, he made it a point to never let another person, be it his son or son-in-law, to assist him in his daily activities. Maybe that is why God didn't make him suffer or render him bed-ridden.
Our grandfather is no more. Maybe he could have stayed with us for a few more years but now discussing all the 'what-ifs' is simply pointless. The day next to his death was by far the hardest to get through, for us, as a family and also for his other near ones in the neighborhood.
The pain, at times shoots to limitlessness. But this pain is also a constant reminder of the sorrow our grandfather has left behind, the expanse of the emptiness that has been created by his absence.
And thus I say,
Pain, I really hate you, but I need you to stay..
