Facing Death - A memoir

For the past few weeks, I had the best things happening in my life. A series of good news that was too good to be true. Unfortunately, folks can’t share it here. Despite this, I couldn’t help but think about the past ghost that haunts me in the night. I just wish it is not true and that there are ways to mend what happened. How would you react when you do not know about the person who is very close to you, a sibling, or a family member disappearing into the thin air? No goodbyes. No whereabouts. Zero clue of existence?

These anecdotes are about the loss, about the death, and about letting go and after all, not about letting go. You can’t let it go because you can’t accept the fact and what if there is no fact, no clue like I do? It is about hope and I wish I can share this with you. 

I still remember hiding below the bed when a corpse was taken through my village road way back in the 2000s. I feared death like anyone else. Perhaps like you. Death is something I feared in the deepest of my consciousness. I always believed it would haunt or seize my soul. That was exactly what I thought in my growing days. 

Some 11 years ago, I feared death and still do. To add up, one innocent day during the winter school break, my dad passed away. I was fourteen, my brother twelve and seven. The untimely shock. That was the saddest part of my life. That was the first time I went to a funeral. Not because I wanted to but when the reason calls, you can’t escape from the fear and from death. I cried and longed for him. He was gone. For a few weeks, I couldn't go alone outside and couldn’t even stay inside the house all by myself. In the coming days, changes are inevitable. You forget the pain and the fear of ghosts.

The second time that I faced death was when I consciously decided to go to a funeral back in 2016. An old granny has passed away in the village opposite ours. People say you must go to the funeral if you hear the death of someone near you. I went to see what it feels like to be present at the funeral.

The next day, I woke late. The sun was late too. The place was enveloped by fog. I reached the cremation ground and saw almost all the people were strangers. I got myself counted in the crowd with all my curiosities. The body was wrapped in yellow clothing and carefully tied to a bamboo shaft. I garnered all my courage and went near the dead body. The granny looked very pale.

I couldn't figure out who all her relatives were. But my heart went with them. It's a moment of grief. I could see some women's bloated faces and swollen eyes. I felt sorry for them.

I have been fearing death. For a moment I became more accepting that death is certain and inevitable. I realized every moment counts a lot. When we are alive, we are meant to live fully—- a good life. As I looked at the strangers gathered from all walks of life to support the family, I realized we are born to help. We are beings bestowed with the privilege to share happiness and grief. We are born to love. Above all, we are meant to contribute towards the happiness of others. We are the instrument of change. Change is responsible for the growth of oneself and others. We are beings with potential.

As I watched fire engulf every cell of old granny, I prayed in silence of my heart for the salvation of the soul. I contemplated what happened there while walking back home soaked in the deluge. I thought the sky wept for the loss of granny, and the rain was a tribute to her.

Since then I have gone to numerous funerals. Funerals are the most intense ambiance. Every time I go there, I realize how ephemeral our lives are. And even more, how I would like to live my life. 

Those were the lessons learned. I was never caught off guard more than the situation I am about to narrate below. I wrote this with a very heavy heart. The incident that occurred on the 9th of December, 2017—- an uncalled event that caught me by surprise. 

It's highly improbable for me to get up in the middle of the night and write this. Still, I can't stop noting this, the story of a highly abstract nature and the enigma that perturbed me since December of last year (2017-2018).

A few days back I went to Lumitsawa to stay with my sister as my brother-in-law was away for some work. She was very excited to have me there. We ate supper together and I began to read the book in the room adjacent to hers. In the morning, to my surprise, she was in my room at the corner and sound asleep. I wondered why she came to my room in the night.

When she woke up, she explained to me hearing somebody weeping the whole of night. While listening to her, at first, she said there were several banging everywhere and for a moment she reckoned it was mice scurrying over the place but what followed tested her dauntlessness. There she said, there was ceaseless sobbing and weeping. That's why she said she came to my room.

I gave an insignificant notice to her tale because I really thought it was a mouse into its mischief.

Today (the next day) the day looked gloomier and the sun failed to show up in the place. With little hope for sunlight, and of course, because of an unwilling coldness, I decided to go to the terrace just below the house where my sister lives. With the indomitable conviction to finish a memoir or an autobiography, "Dreams from my Father", by Former President Barack Obama. A beautifully crafted, candid story of self-discovery and Obama's quest for understanding his root and where he is heading.

The time runs so fast when you are most engaged. As it was 5 pm already and the cold air was unforgiving, I opened my Facebook and chatted for a while, and got into my book again.

Until I was awoken by the most unimaginable incident. It is beyond my words to explain and bring things to life. To my wildest reality, the crying began again. I had turned off the light in the night. I felt so uncomfortable in my own skin. My sister and I were haunted!

It was at the beginning of December I visited my sister, brother-in-law, and my little nephew.

His name is Arjun Mishra. My nephew was barely eight. I loved him very much. He was so fond of me and I of him ( I still can’t measure how much I love him). He was a very sweet, very talkative, and the smartest little child I've ever known. I have thought of him as someone very special, loving, and blessed. Blessed because he was born in Lord Buddha's Parinirvana when the sun was surrounded by rainbows. I could remember the day very well.

It was on December 4th when we slept together. He wanted to sleep with me. How glad I was. The next day, I snapped a few photos of him and gave him Ngultrum Hundred, and started off home (Samdrup Jongkar). He wanted to go home with me but I denied it because I thought his mother would feel lonely without him.

Five days later, I got a call and I wanted to tell them it was a lie. A big jest that shouldn't be shared. Oh! My nephew had an accident. He was carried to the hospital and no more! The tears welled down my eyes.  

I couldn't stop thinking of him. I'd show his photos to my family. How big he was.

And I was broken. He is never going to come back. I thought of him, day and night and in the darkest of the nights. 

I was shaken.

And here today, the unexpected, something unseen, something of a distant galaxy, and something not experienced happened. His parents did the funeral rites well, completing the elaborate 13 days of rites in the village. The Lamas were also invited to the ritual. 

Why would he come back in the dead of the night here?

The dog barked and made a shrill howl surrounding the house I slept in tonight. The power got blacked out. My sister was so scared. I heard him pull her blanket and tried to sleep with her. My sister told me he cried and said it was very painful for him.

We were awake after midnight. After an endless strike of matchsticks, we lit incense sticks.

He was gone. And what happened afterward is only we know. I hope the person whom I am always looking forward to meeting is there somewhere. I hope she calls… And the absence will always leave a void in my life no matter how successful I become or where I go. 

After 3 years, I still miss him. I miss him more than anything. I pray for him because he needs more prayers. 

May he rest in peace. May he have a swift rebirth as a wonderful human being. May he be the rising sun to the people who seek its warmth. 

As I conclude this, my only hope and wish for the readers is that you value the people in your life. Life is so unpredictable. Once it is lost, there is no turning back. 

This is dedicated to everyone who lost their close people and still can’t accept the fact of their going away. 

For acceptance, here we go: 

“The journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise." - Gandalf to Pippin in Lord of the Rings

But what do you do for a person who is lost, whose death is unknown, or whose presence is clueless?

....

Smooth sailing, little one.